


So Long, Lonesome

by livthelion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Don't judge me you should all know by now that I'm a filthy liar, Hooray for sex, I like my characters having equal opportunities okay, Kid!Derek, Kid!Stiles, Knotting, M/M, Self-indulgent fluff, Slow build is the best build, Stiles and Derek are bros, TEMPORARY Hiatus, You sexist bastard, final chapter(s) soon, mention of side m-preg, things HAPPENED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 63,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livthelion/pseuds/livthelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <sub>“You think my eyes are nice,” Derek repeated, eyebrows twitching upwards.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Stiles colored faintly. “Well, they <em>are</em>,” he said, defensive. “Is that seriously all you got from that entire conversation?” He rolled his eyes. “God, this friendship is gonna be difficult to maintain, I can tell.”</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>“Friendship.” Derek didn’t really know what to do with that. He didn’t have friends outside of Pack.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Stiles threw up his hands and sighed. “Yes, Derek. Friendship. We’re <em>friends,”</em> he drew the word out as if Derek were thick. “Even though you are rather odd.”</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>“I’m odd.”</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>“You do realize you do that a lot right? The repeating what I’ve just said in a tone that questions my intellect?”</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Derek shrugged. “Your point.”</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>“Also, you don’t punctuate like normal people. Is this gonna be a thing?”</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Derek turned his attention back to the front of the classroom.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’ Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody.”</sub>
</p><p>—</p><p>Fluff and <strike>the promise of future</strike> butt sex. What more could you possibly want</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Disruption In the Normal Swing of Things

**Author's Note:**

> It's gonna be about 10- _ish_ chapters okay? Not sure if it's gonna be more. We (the fic and myself, of course) haven't decided yet.
> 
> This is meant to span over years so after I get the initial chapters out of the way, it'll move a lot quicker. Maybe. Idk I might write a book.
> 
> Title taken from the incredibly lovely 'So Long, Lonesome' by Explosions In the Sky.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you probably think I'm joking when I say pointless, self-indulgent fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'A Disruption In the Normal Swing of Things' by Cursive.

When Derek Hale was a child, it was a bit more difficult for him to control his wolf. During school, he would spend most of the day worrying about hiding his fangs or claws and averting his eyes lest they flash amber.

Also, long sleeves were good for concealing randomly sprouting fur.

Needless to say, his odd habits and intense gaze— when he chose to engage said gaze— put the other children on edge and they all tried their best to steer clear.

Derek figured it was for the best. The only reason he got away with the occasional slip up was because no one was paying close attention to him. If his mom and dad ever knew how often his wolf threatened to make an appearance in the classroom, he’d have to go back to getting homeschooled. Which would have been fine if Laura hadn’t been going through what his mom liked to refer as ‘her rebellious teenager phase’ and what his dad referred to as ‘PMS’ whenever Derek’s mother wasn’t in hearing distance. Both are bad enough when dealing with a _human_. Wolves are much worse. Where a human would throw tantrums and slam doors, his sister would shift and try to gut anyone within a hundred yard radius. Except his mom, of course.

The perks of being an Alpha.

Being a grown wolf, Derek’s dad had nothing to worry about in terms of getting seriously injured. He just shifted and he and Laura would wrestle until both of them were laughing and Laura was calm enough to change back. Derek, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Their little ‘tiffs’ (as his mother liked to fondly call them) usually ended with Laura cackling maniacally and Derek lying curled up on the floor in shame with his clothes in shreds along with a few layers of skin. His father would shake with barely repressed laughter as he hauled Derek up and clapped him on the shoulder. Always followed by a reminder that someday he’d be big enough to return the favor. He liked to think that were they not wolves, his parents would be more concerned. At least he really hoped so.

Anyway, Derek’s parents had finally allowed him to attend ‘normal people school’ for sixth grade so he was trying his hardest not to draw any attention to himself. He’d sit at his table in the back of the room and stare at the whiteboard, vaguely listening to the lessons his teacher would intone day after day. There wasn’t much need for him to pay strict attention to any of it since he’d already learned all that the woman had to teach and more from his Uncle Peter. Only Uncle Peter had been more thorough. And less dull.

Mostly, he just observed and eavesdropped on the students and school staff. It wasn’t that he was an overly curious or nosy kid, his family just seemed to enjoy it when he brought them the town gossip he’d overhear from the front office. Thus, Derek spent a good part of the day listening in on the principal and his secretary who seemed to know everyone’s business and was quite eager to share.

And that’s how Derek found out about the new student before anyone else.

He was listening to the secretary, Mrs. Robertson, chat with her good friend and frequent conversational partner, Meryl, on the phone when the office door opened.

_“She caught them in the garden shed with his hand up his— Hi, there! I’ll have to call you back, Meryl.”_

_“Morning, I’m John. John Stilinski. Here to see about enrolling my son.”_

_“Oh, the new sheriff! We’ve been expecting you. Pat! Get out here!”_

_There was the sound of shuffling feet a little ways off and then the sound of a man muttering about damnable women and intercom systems._

_“Oh! You must be the new sheriff!” Principal Howard boomed._

Derek winced. When principal boomed, he _boomed_. He could picture the jovial man smiling widely and shaking the sheriff’s hand exuberantly.

_“That I am. Good to meet you, Principal Howard. This is—”_

_“Please,” the principal interrupted, “Call me Pat.”_

_“Pat, then,” the sheriff said, with just a hint of exasperation. “This is my son Stiles. I came here to enroll him for school.”_

So, Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.

Well, then.

_“And how old are you little fella?”_

_“Just turned twelve,” Sheriff Stilinski answered after a few moments of uncomfortable silence._

Twelve. That meant that he was in Derek’s grade. Which meant there was a fifty-fifty chance of Stiles being in Derek’s class.

_“Twelve? You look at least thirteen,” Principal Howard said to the boy._

_He was met with more silence._

_“Used to talk a mile a minute,” the sheriff said ruefully. “Hasn’t talked much since his mother… Well,” he finished awkwardly._

_The principal cleared his throat gracelessly while Mrs. Robertson clucked sympathetically._

_“Well, the day’s almost done. Why don’t you take this paperwork home and bring it back tomorrow with Stiles, here,” Principal Howard said kindly._

_“We’ll do that, then,” the sheriff said, voice thick with relief at the not-so-subtle subject change. “We’ll be back tomorrow.” The sound of receding footsteps._

_“8:00!” Mrs. Robertson called after them._

_“8:00,” the sheriff agreed._

Derek didn't acknowledge the anticipation building up in his gut.

-

The next day, Derek was first in class as always but unlike most days he was in a weirdly good mood. He tried not to fidget as he waited for the class to fill up. He wasn’t curious about the new boy. He was just anxious for the day to be done.

Yeah, that was it.

Plus, there were two sixth grade classes and it’s not like it would change anything even if Stiles was in Derek’s class. Derek would still be the class pariah. His good mood deflated a little bit at the thought and by the time the rest of the class came in from the playground, he was his usual withdrawn self.

The teacher was doing roll call already so it would seem that Stilinski wasn’t in his class after all.

Derek sighed and settled in for another monotonous lecture.

Ten minutes into the lesson, there was a knock on the door.

Derek stared at his desk and pretended not to be listening as intently as every other kid in the class as his teacher talked to Mrs. Robertson. He could hear shuffling feet and his classmates chattering excitedly and it hit him that the only empty seat in the class was the one at his table.

Well, shit.

“And this is Derek,” his teacher was saying. “He’ll be your table buddy. I’m sorry about the seating arrangements. We don’t have very much space. If you need to be closer to the board, we can–”

Derek saw the boy shake his head in his peripheral.

“Oh. Okay.” Derek’s teacher looked at him warily. “Derek, this is Stiles. He just moved to Beacon Hills with his father. He’s the new sheriff,” she added pointedly.

Derek finally looked at the boy. Stiles was… small. He had close-cropped hair and a turned up nose and surprisingly large hands and – he was now staring back at Derek, mouth slightly agape and cheeks slowly growing red. Derek averted his eyes, looking instead to his teacher who seemed to be waiting for some kind of response. Derek nodded once and let his eyes slide back to the table.

The chair next to Derek’s was pulled out and Stiles slid into his seat. He was closer than Derek would have thought he’d sit but then he didn’t know to avoid Derek yet. He’d move his chair to the furthest edge of the table or request that seat change soon enough. After lunch, probably.

It was obvious that Stiles was nervous. The kid’s hands were twitching like crazy on the table, his feet tapping an erratic beat on the cheap carpet and Derek probably would have been able to hear his quickly beating heart even without his enhanced senses. His anxiety was catching and Derek could practically _taste_ his wolf clawing towards the surface.

Aaand that was not the best thought to have at the moment because now his claws were peeking out from the tips of his fingers.

Derek clenched his fists beneath the table, felt his nails digging into the fleshy part of his palm and break the skin. Most days, it wasn’t this difficult to get his wolf to calm down but for some reason today of all days it had decided it would very much like to make a guest appearance. Derek fought off panic as his canines elongated in his mouth and hair started sprouting. He hunched into himself and tried to appear small and unassuming.

“Are you alright?” a quiet voice asked. It surprised him enough that Derek was able to rein his wolf in.

Derek tried and failed not to acknowledge the boy sitting next to him. The boy’s eyes were widened in shock.

What? His teeth and claws were retracted. Derek brushed his tongue along his now flat teeth just to be sure.

“Ohmigod. Are you— You’re _bleeding.”_

And that was blood trickling from his hands. No reason to be alarmed.

“It’s nothing,” Derek said quickly, hiding his hands under the table again.

“Nothing?” Stiles repeated, incredulous. “Really? You’re gonna play that off as nothing.”

“Yes,” Derek hissed back. “Nothing.”

“Riiight. So, I’ll just have the teacher come and have a look at this so-called nothing then, shall I?” Stiles replied, moving to raise his hand.

“No, don’t. I’m fine. Really.” Derek was not pleading. Not at all. It was just that half the town already thought he and his family were freaks and being caught with his hands dripping with blood wouldn’t help the situation.

Stiles must have seen something in Derek’s expression because he relented. “Fine. At least let me take a look at them,” he said, reaching for Derek’s hands.

Derek flinched back.

“Don’t be a baby. I’m not gonna hurt you,” Stiles said, exasperated.

“I wasn’t worried about you hurting me,” Derek protested.

“Sure. You just threw on that terrified expression for shits and gigs.”

“I wasn’t scared. I don’t like people touching me.” People meaning Not Pack.

“Oooh,” Stiles drawled. “Was it the Bad Touch? Emotional trauma? Skin allergies? Are you a germaphobe? Or is it—”

“Jesus Christ. For someone who supposedly doesn’t talk, you talk a helluva lot,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles looked at him strangely.

Oh, right. He wasn’t supposed to know that. Possibly because he wasn’t actually there when that particular conversation took place.

“I overheard the secretary telling someone about the mute, new student on the phone,” Derek lied.

Stiles nodded slowly, still looking a bit suspicious. He shrugged it off. “Now, let me see those hands you germaphobic weirdo.”

“I’m not actually a germaphobe,” Derek sighed, placing his hands in Stiles’.

“I know,” Stiles said, distracted. “I thought you cut your hand?”

Shit. The whole werewolf healing thing probably should’ve occurred to him.

“Paper cuts. They bleed a lot,” Derek answered brilliantly.

“Riiight,” Stiles drawled, skeptical. He cleaned the blood from Derek’s hands with a tissue he’d pulled from his backpack. “So, what. Do you go around killing the neighbors’ cats and then bathing in their blood or something? Is it some kind of satanic ritual ‘cause I’m totally not judging, but I’ve read up on satanic cults and they all seem pretty sketchy and—”

“Stiles.”

“Huh?”

“Stop talking.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles said, sheepish.

There was a brief moment of silence and Derek was almost of regretful of his phrasing. He hadn’t wanted Stiles to stop talking to him completely, he’d just wanted to move past the long and rambling rant about Satan portion of the day.

Stiles seemed to understand this (un)fortunately because a few seconds later he started chattering at Derek again.

“Do you get cold easily? Because it’s only September and it’s like eighty degrees out and you’re wearing a pretty thick sweater and wow, your eyes are really weird. I’ve never seen eyes that color. They’re really nice. Is it genetic? I bet you have your mom’s eyes. Like Harry Potter! Have you read the series? Or even just seen the movies? The movies are really good, too, I just prefer the books ‘cause there’s so much left out in the movies.” He paused and looked at Derek expectantly.

“You think my eyes are nice,” Derek repeated, eyebrows twitching upwards.

Stiles colored faintly. “Well, they _are_ ,” he said, defensive. “Is that seriously all you got from that entire conversation?” He rolled his eyes. “God, this friendship is gonna be difficult to maintain, I can tell.”

“Friendship.” Derek didn’t really know what to do with that. He didn’t have friends outside of Pack.

Stiles threw up his hands and sighed. “Yes, Derek. Friendship. We’re _friends,”_ he drew the word out as if Derek were thick. “Even though you are rather odd.”

 _“I’m_ odd.”

“You do realize you do that a lot right? The repeating what I’ve just said in a tone that questions my intellect?”

Derek shrugged. “Your point.”

“Also, you don’t punctuate like normal people. Is this gonna be a thing?”

Derek turned his attention back to the front of the classroom.

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’ Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody.”

Derek said nothing and tried to look interested in whatever his teacher was saying.

“So, are you gonna answer my questions?”

“And which questions would those be?” Derek asked.

“All of them,” Stiles replied, looking at Derek as though he were dense.

Derek thought about it. Stiles, thinking Derek was ignoring him again, sighed and drooped against the table.

“No, I don’t get cold easily. Yes, it’s genetic. I have my mom’s eyes. I’ve seen all the Harry Potter movies. I prefer the books though, as well.”

Stiles sat up and gave him a huge smile. “You’ve read the books? _all_ of them?”

“All of them,” Derek replied, trying not to look too pleased at Stiles’ reaction.

Stiles’ smile turned into a full blown grin. “Dude. I knew there was a reason I liked you. So, any thoughts on C.S. Lewis, Riordan, and/or Lemony Snicket?” Derek looked at Stiles in amusement.

“Come on, dude! You just joined the conversation. You can’t clam up on me now,” Stiles complained.

“I like Riordan. Didn’t care too much for his Egyptian series but I liked the Greek ones. Snickett’s good, too. My dad read all of the Chronicles of Narnia to me and my sister when we were younger. They’re my favorite.”

“You have a sister? How old?”

“Laura. She’s fourteen.”

“Wait, so if you don’t get cold easily, why are you wearing a sweater?”

Derek refused to wonder how Stiles’ brain worked. It wasn’t worth the potential headache. “Because.”

“Wow, that is a really excellent answer,” Stiles replied sarcastically. He eyed Derek. “How old are you?”

“Twelve,” Derek answered.

“Bullshit! I call bullshit! You’re totally lying to me right now, man,” Stiles crowed, a little too loud. Derek glared at him to shut him up. Too late. Heads swiveled towards them from all directions. Stiles coughed in a lame attempt to cover up his outburst.

“I’m not lying,” Derek hissed.

“Liar, liar plants for hire.”

“Don’t quote Spongebob at me.”

Stiles gaped at him. “Ohmigod. You watch Spongebob.” 

Derek shrugged. “So.”

“Nothing! I just figured you’d watch the news or Dateline or whatever soulless individuals such as yourself prefer to watch.”

Derek couldn’t work up a convincing enough glare so he settled for a scowl. “Moron,” he muttered.

Stiles smirked at him and puckered his lips. “Aw, honeybear. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“The sweetest thing you’ll ever get from me, too.”

“Promise?” Stiles replied cheekily.

Derek snorted. This wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. Maybe Stiles would talk with him like this every day. The thought almost made school seem a little more bearable. Derek shook his head, a small smile playing around his mouth.

“What’s that face for?” Stiles asked.

“Nothing.”

“Telllll meeee,” Stiles whined.

“I’m just not used to getting this type of banter here,” Derek answered reluctantly.

“Why’s that?” Stiles asked, curious.

"Well, my family and I are kind of outsiders here. People keep their distance. Meaning—”

“Meaning no one talks to you,” Stiles finished for him. “Really? So _none_ of these little fuckwits will talk to you?” he asked, looking around the classroom angrily.

Derek snorted again. “Don’t worry about it. I prefer it that way, honestly.”

“Oh.” Stiles looked kind of… hurt. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Would you prefer it if I stopped talking to you?” he asked, hesitant.

Derek rolled his eyes and looked at Stiles as though he were being dumb.

“Oh,” Stiles repeated, sounding relieved this time. “Well, good ‘cause it wasn’t gonna happen.”

Derek developed the irrational fear his eyes would someday fall from their sockets due to excessive eye rolling.

-

Their teacher gave a test before lunch and of course Stiles had to take it even though it was his first day because she was just that kind of teacher. Awesome.

It’s not that Stiles really needed a chance to catch up. He was actually quite brilliant, thank you very much. It was just that it was nearly impossible for him to sit still and remain quiet for any amount of time.

Stiles completed the test in under fifteen minutes and glanced around the classroom. First one finished. No surprise there, he thought smugly.

He tried for calm but was fidgeting in his seat within seconds. He began tapping his pencil against the table and chewing on his fingernails as he tried to come up with things to distract himself with. He heard Derek sigh.

“Jesus, Stiles. Would you stop,” Derek complained.

“Sorry, sorry,” Stiles said with an apologetic smile. He stopped tapping his pencil. A couple minutes of restless twitching passed before Derek sighed again and turned his head to glare at him.

“What! I’m being silent!” Stiles exclaimed.

“I can feel your nervous energy about to explode. Why don’t you,” Derek paused, thought for a moment, “Take a nap, or _something_. Just, stop. Doing all that,” he growled, gesturing to Stiles’ entirety.

Stiles threw up his hands in exasperation. “You just gestured to all of me!” Derek glared back like, _yeah, that was the point, idiot._ Stiles huffed, not appreciating the silent sarcasm. “I’m already being quiet for you so that you can finish your test, slowpoke. That’s more than anybody else gets from me, ask my dad! What more could you possibly want?”

Derek groaned and ground his palms into his eyes. “I want you to shut up, for Christ’s sake. Just give me a few moments of peace.”

“Peace?” Stiles repeated, horrified. “‘Peace was never an option,’” he said, struggling and failing to keep a straight face, breaking into a wide grin almost immediately.

Derek turned his face to hide his smile and went back to the test, hoping, in vain, that Stiles would let him work.

“Derek,” Stiles choked out. “Fin- finish your test. Quickly, before I die of boredom. I can feel it coming.” He coughed for dramatic effect. “You don’t want me to die, do you, Derek?”

“If your death results in you shutting the fuck up, then yes,” Derek muttered.

Stiles clutched a hand to his chest and gave Derek sad eyes. “You don’t mean that. Say it isn’t so, Derek. Say it!” he said pitifully.

Derek looked at him with no expression for a few moments and returned to his test. He heard Stiles give a quiet huff and had to force himself not to smirk.

He was on the last page when Stiles scooted his seat closer to his own. Derek tried to ignore Stiles as he moved his chair closer until they were only a few inches apart.

“Deeerrreeeek,” Stiles whispered. Derek ignored him. “Psst. Pssst. Hey, Derek. Pssssst.”

Derek felt something hit the side of his cheek. He slowly turned his head towards Stiles and glared malevolently.

Stiles chuckled nervously. “I was just wondering if you were finished with your—” Derek bared his teeth and growled.

Instead of giving the appropriate response, which would be either cowering or crying, Stiles eyes crinkled up and he grinned.

“Aww,” he crooned. “You’re just an overgrown pup, aren’t you? Yes, you are!” he cooed. “I always wanted a puppy. You think my dad will let me keep you? I think he will. How could he resist such a cute face,” Stiles proclaimed and reached as if to pinch Derek’s cheeks. Derek snapped his teeth at the offending hand. Stiles, in return, hit him on the nose. “No! Bad Derek! No biting your human,” Stiles scolded.

Derek looked at him with a face that practically screamed _‘what the actual fuck?’_ because Stiles was clearly demented.

Stiles cracked up. “Oh my God, dude. You should see your face.”

“‘Your human,’” Derek repeated. “Are you actually deranged?”

Stiles pulled an exaggeratedly surprised face. “Whoa. That almost sounded like an actual question, there, Der-Bear,” he laughed. “Be a good boy and finish your test or I’ll send you to bed without supper,” he said, bursting into a fresh fit of giggles.

Derek was… Baffled. Bewildered. Bemused. _Fucking terrified_. All were fitting words for the emotions flitting around his skull. Dog jokes and pet names. Really. Was this some kind of sick game? Were the gods laughing at Derek’s expense, right now? And what if this wasn’t just friendly banter, what if…

What if Stiles was a hunter?

Derek looked at Stiles and immediately snorted at the thought. Yeah, definitely not. Too scrawny. He nodded dismissively in Stiles’ direction and turned to finish off the test.

“I feel like I should be offended by that obvious dismissal. Should I be offended?”

Derek completed the last question and turned his test over.

“Finally,” Stiles said. “Damn, man, took you long enough.”

“Would’ve finished sooner if it were possible for you to sit still for five fucking seconds,” Derek countered.

“Ugh, no. Stillness is not gonna happen. Like, ever.” Derek groaned and Stiles wrapped an arm around his shoulders companionably. “I’d say I’m sorry but I’m really not. Get used to it, buddy.”

“Stiles.”

“What’s up, pal?”

“Arm. Off.”

“Oh, yeah. Almost forgot about your germaphobia,” he chuckled, releasing Derek and drumming his fingertips on the table.

“Still not a germaphobe, Stiles. I just don’t like you,” Derek said, smiling a little so Stiles would understand he wasn’t serious. And okay, Derek might be feeling a little pleased that they already had an inside joke between them. Maybe being friends with a human outside of the Pack wouldn’t be so difficult.

“Of course you do, buddy,” Stiles smiled. “It’s the ol’ Stilinski charm. Irresistible.”

Derek smirked. “Uh huh,” he replied skeptically.

Stiles flailed in his seat. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you saying that I’m not charming? ‘Cause I totally am.” Derek snickered. “Whatever. You’re just jealous of all this,” Stiles said gesturing to his face and _clearly_ impressive physique.

Derek laughed at him. Loudly. It earned him a couple of curious looks, but for the first time since he’d started at the human school, Derek didn’t hunch down at the scrutiny and try to make himself less visible. He didn’t acknowledge the attention of the other humans; he just continued laughing at Stiles.

“RUDE,” Stiles squawked indignantly, trying to keep a straight face but already starting to laugh along with Derek.

 _“What the hell?”_ Derek heard the Whittemore kid mutter to his best friend, Danny. They had the table across the row.

 _“So, Hale has a sense of humor. Who knew?”_ Danny shrugged nonchalantly, but his ears had gone a little pink and his heart rate picked up.

Derek didn’t know what that was all about so he just ignored it. Stiles noticed him glance at the boys though and turned to look for himself.

He looked a little bewildered when Jackson scowled back at him. Stiles turned back to Derek and raised his eyebrows at him, _'What’s that all about?'_

“I’m not sure, exactly, but I think that’s Whittemore’s normal reaction to people.” Derek was lying because actually he was positive that that was Jackson’s normal reaction to people. He spent most of his time in school observing his schoolmates and the staff and even by Derek’s standards, Jackson Whittemore was an extremely unpleasant person. The only person he was remotely kind to or respectful of was Danny.

“So, the Chronicles of Narnia are your favorite, huh?” Stiles asked, changing the subject rather abruptly.

“The fuck? We were talking about that like two and a half hours ago, Stiles.” It was true. It was almost time for lunch. Derek had the right to be exasperated.

“Yeah, but I got sidetracked!” Stiles cried.

“You seem to get sidetracked pretty easily,” Derek observed.

Stiles slumped back into his seat and waved his hand dismissively. “Details, my dear man. Details,” he said airily.

The lunch bell rang and Stiles shot up before it had even finished. “Oh, thank _God_ ,” Stiles breathed, all but hopping up and down in excitement. He tugged on Derek’s arm, whining as he tried to drag Derek from the room without success. Derek shot him an amused look and got up from his seat slowly, stretching and cracking his neck and back just to be irritating.

“C’mon, Der-Bear! _FOOD_. Hurry the fuck up, man!” Stiles exclaimed. Derek just offered him his trademark smirk as he started another round of stretching. Stiles groaned and grabbed Derek’s wrist and _pulled_ him to the door. Derek followed, putting up a good amount of resistance to hinder and annoy Stiles even though he was half starved himself.

Adolescent werewolf, hello.

Stiles followed the crowd of children into the cafeteria. “Whoa, nice,” he muttered to himself and then louder to Derek, “Yeah, my old school’s cafeteria was way less clean than this. I mean, it was literally referred to as ‘the Mess Hall.’ I swear, one time I found a fucking roach in my soup and I refused to eat there ever again. Well, no, I still ate there because I’m a growing boy and making my own lunch isn't gonna happen. I nearly chopped my finger off that one time I tried to make my dad a salad," he waved his finger in Derek’s face, showing him a miniscule scar on his spidery index finger. “See! Dad won’t let me near the cutlery now,” he pouted. “And then there was that one time,” Stiles continued talking as they moved up slowly in the line.

Neither Stiles nor Derek seemed to realize that Stiles was still holding Derek’s wrist with his other hand until a boy who Derek thought was named Matt stopped in front of them, smiling mockingly.

“Well, isn’t that sweet,” he said scornfully, throwing a pointed look to Stiles’ hand on Derek. “First day of school and you’ve already made yourself a _friend_ ,” he sneered, putting emphasis on the word and shooting Derek a disdainful look. Derek returned the look blankly. What the fuck was _this_ little shit’s problem?

Stiles glanced down at where he had his fingers wrapped around Derek’s wrist, surprised. He let out a sheepish laugh and released his grip. “Whoops, I’ll give you your arm back now that we’re in line and you’re no longer resisting the call of food, glorious food," he chuckled.

“You’d think the Sheriff’s son would have a little more class,” Matt continued. Stiles looked at the kid in mild irritation, only just catching the tone. “I mean, hanging out with a freak like Hale —” Matt cut off as Stiles stepped directly into his space. Derek didn’t care about the insult that was aimed at him. He was worried for a split second about Stiles but Stiles was as big as Matt and based on the force with which he had dragged Derek to the cafeteria, he wasn’t as weak as he looked.

Also, Derek was there to maim Matt if he tried to hurt him, so no worries.

Stiles didn’t do the whole, ‘why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you’ bit followed by a lame catfight, which was kind of what Derek was expecting. Instead, he put on a polite yet somehow menacing smile and said, “Yes, thank you for those brilliant yet utterly inaccurate observations. While I do _so_ appreciate your attempt at making me feel welcome,” he continued sarcastically, “I’m _really_ not too fond of the way you chose to address my friend, Derek, here,” he gestured to Derek without taking his cold gaze off Matt. “It would probably be best if you apologized and then crawled back to whatever hole you abandoned in its’ pursuit of being someone’s final resting place.”

“If you think I’m gonna apologize—” Matt broke off at the furious look Stiles gave him. “Uh, sorry, Hale,” he mumbled to the floor, face turning pink, and fled. Derek looked after him in amusement and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. No one had; it was a relatively quiet confrontation.

And Stiles stepped back into his place in line next to Derek and continued his story as if uninterrupted about the time that he’d put laxatives in his dad’s food because he’d been complaining about his stomach hurting and Stiles was totally just being helpful and his dad totally overreacted just because Stiles hadn’t read the package to ascertain the recommended dosage and he’d had to sleep in the bathroom. On the toilet.

Derek could tell from Stiles mystified expression that he honestly couldn’t see how that warranted being banned from the kitchen for a month.

Then he told Derek about the time he’d gone vegan after he’d found out that meat was made from animals and given up after his dad had told him that eggs were baby chickens because he loved the fuck out of eggs. Eggs meant breakfast and breakfast was his favorite thing ever. Besides curly fries, of course. Now, he was just as callous about the untimely demise of all those poor animals as everyone else.

By the time they’d finally gotten their food, both Stiles and Derek were ravenous. They sat at an empty table in the back of the cafeteria. Stiles was actually quiet through the pizza and Derek was grateful because he didn’t think he’d enjoy being covered in Stiles’ half-masticated food. Derek had finished his own pizza and was almost done with his salad when Stiles spoke again.

“So,” Stiles prompted.

“So what?” Derek asked, looking up from his food to meet Stiles’ expectant gaze.

Stiles sighed and scrubbed a hand over his head. “Chronicles of Narnia, Derek. Y’know, the thing we were just now talking about?”

“We weren’t talking about anything just now. We were eating. Well, _I_ was eating. _You_ were inhaling your food. I’m not even sure how you managed that without choking.”

"You know what I meant, dick,” Stiles grumbled, peeved. “Besides, you ate just as fast as I did!”

Derek just smirked into his salad.

“Ugh, c’mon, dude. I have no one to talk books with,” Stiles whined. “Pleeeeeeeeease,” he begged Derek, choosing to employ those ridiculous puppy eyes again.

Derek gave in with a huff of laughter.

They ate the remnants of their lunch and talked about the books for a while until Stiles brought up the movies. Which Derek hadn’t seen.

 _“What?”_ Stiles somehow managed to yell, though his cheeks were filled with grapes that he’d been stuffing into his mouth like a squirrel. He looked at Derek as though he were mental.

Derek covered up the laughter the sight triggered by taking a sip of his drink. “I just haven’t gotten around to it,” he said with a shrug.

“But there’s like three of them out now,” Stiles sputtered. “How have you not even seen _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ at the _very_ least?” It was just so wrong. “No. Uh uh. You are coming over to my house after school tomorrow and we are watching _all_ of them,” he declared in a tone that meant end of discussion.

“That could take a while, though. I don’t know if my mom’ll be too happy about having to pick me up in the middle of the night,” Derek said, making a show of considering it.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “That’s why you’re gonna spend the night, genius.”

Derek tried not to let his surprise show. He’d never been invited to spend the night at a human’s house. Hell, he’d never even just been _invited_ to a human’s house. “Huh?” he grunted brilliantly.

Stiles gave him a doting smile. “Oh, Der-Bear. And here I was thinking you weren’t just another pretty face.” He shook his head condescendingly. “You’ll stay at my house tomorrow so we can watch all three movies back-to-back and it’s a Friday so it’s ideal. You can ask your parents tonight.” A thought struck him and he backtracked, “That is, unless you don’t want to,” he said, laughing awkwardly. “I’m not gonna force you to, man.” And now he was turning red. Oh, dear God, just kill him now.

When he finally met Derek’s eyes again he was grateful to find that Derek wasn’t laughing at him and all his awkward. He was frowning slightly, his eyebrows bunched up in a confused fashion. It was kinda… cute. Like a little, lost puppy. Stiles smiled almost fondly in response.

“No, no, I’d like to,” Derek mumbled. “I’ve never, uh, spent the night at someone’s house before,” he admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at Stiles.

“Hey, me neither!” Stiles exclaimed, grinning excitedly. “We can totally pop our sleepover cherries together!”

Derek groaned. “Ugh. You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” Stiles countered, waggling his eyebrows, pleased when it elicited a laugh from Derek.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask… Where do you usually sit?” Stiles inquired casually.

“I don’t eat in the cafeteria.” Not a lie. He usually ran home and ate with his family. His mom would probably have a plate filled with food for him already gone cold. His stomach panged with regret. All that good food given up in exchange for a shitty slice of pizza. He wasn’t even full. Ugh.

Stiles laughed at the sulky face Derek was making at his empty plate. “What’s up, buttercup?” he asked because Stiles was a man and he was in no way terrified of the truly alarming glare that Derek directed towards Stiles whenever he chose to utilize some unfortunate pet name. Derek was a big teddy bear. Stiles just knew it.

“I am _not_ a teddy bear, Stiles.”

Oops. “That was not meant to leave Area 51,” Stiles gestured to his head with an apologetic laugh. “My bad, man.”

Derek sniggered. “‘Area 51?’” he repeated, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“I was gonna go with Mind Palace, but I wasn’t sure you’d get the reference,” Stiles retorted.

Derek’s eyebrows shot up higher and he opened his mouth to respond but the bell rang, signaling the end of ~~the world~~ lunch. Stiles gave a squawk and flopped against the lunch table and this time it was Derek that was left half-pulling, half-carrying Stiles back to class.

“But she’s so _boring_ ,” Stiles wailed, arms flailing as he tried to clutch on to something, _anything_ that would prevent Derek from dragging him back to that woman and all her dullness. She was the dullest dullard in the history of dulls.

“That’s a lot of dulls,” Derek snorted.

Ugh. Brain to mouth filter officially out of order.

“ _You_ have a filter?” Derek laughed, actually sounding curious. The bastard.

“Oh my G- Is nothing sacred?” Stiles whined horrified.

It happened from time to time when Stiles was feeling comfortable. He just stopped being able to tell the difference between thoughts and things said aloud, though usually just around his dad or his— yeah. Just his dad, now. It wasn’t anything new and Stiles rarely held anything back anyways but there were a few thoughts that were meant just for him. Not that he’d revealed anything _too_ personal. Although, judging from the face he’d made, Stiles was pretty certain that Derek hadn’t appreciated being addressed as something cute and cuddly and merely _playing_ at being a frightening beast.

“Don’t make me go back there, Derek. I’ll do anything,” Stiles pleaded. “Please! I can’t take it!”

Derek let him go and Stiles was about to thank him except then he realized he'd only been released because they were already outside of their classroom.

“Traitor,” Stiles sulked.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” Derek asked, hesitant, looking a little disappointed like—

Like he thought Stiles was saying that being in there with him all day was horrible and way to be a dick, Stiles. Derek totally looked like a kicked puppy, now.

Stiles slung an arm around Derek’s shoulders and hauled him into class. “Nah. It’s not so bad.” Derek's mouth twitched up into a small, crooked smile. “Company’s pretty good, actually.”

-

They got through the class generally unscathed, although Stiles was sure he’d actually _lost_ a few IQ points.

When the final bell rang, he jumped up just as quickly as he had for lunch, except he wasn’t as anxious to get out as the first time around. He drummed his fingers idly on his thighs as he waited for Derek to finish putting his belongings away.

They walked to the front of the school, Stiles chattering about nothing while Derek smiled slightly at the ground, listening to him babble.

“So, I’m on bus A19,” Stiles said as they approached the bus lane near the front entrance of the school.

“I don’t ride the bus,” Derek replied, answering the unasked question.

“Boo,” Stiles complained. “Now I’m gonna have to deal with all the awkward eye contact and ‘is someone sitting heres’ by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Derek smirked. “I’m sure you won’t get too bored, at least. If all else fails you can just talk the unlucky bastard sitting next to or near you to death,” he said sweetly.

“Dick,” Stiles laughed.

“Ass,” Derek responded, somewhere between fond and amused.

“You been talking to my dad?” Stiles asked, eyes going comically wide.

Derek snorted. “Yeah, he wanted to apologize in person for plaguing me with his dipshit son.”

“Well, that was certainly nice of him, dropping in like that,” Stiles replied sarcastically, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels and looking as though he were dragging out the conversation to avoid the awkwardness of the school bus.

“You should probably get going,” Derek said, nodding towards the buses because he was a sadist and clearly enjoyed causing Stiles pain.

Stiles groaned and slumped forward. “Fine,” he sighed morosely. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, uncertain.

“Duh.”

“What do you mean ‘duh?’ It was a totally legitimate question!”

“Where else would I be, Stiles?” Derek retorted, exasperation showing clear on his face.

“You could be planning more satanic rituals! I don’t know your life!”

Derek chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Go home, Stiles.”

Stiles laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m going.” He gave a small wave and headed for his bus.

“Stiles,” Derek called after him.

“Yeah, buddy?” Stiles responded, turning around to look at Derek.

“Don’t call me Der-Bear. Next time, I’ll rip your throat out. With my _teeth_.”

Stiles made a confused face and thought for a second before his eyes widened comically. “But that was, like, hours ago, dude!”

Derek has already walked through the parking lot and out the front gates by the time he heard Stiles laughing as he finally got that Derek was fucking with him.

Derek found himself smiling the entire walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's cursing. I was considering lightening it up a bit since, y'know, I'm starting them off kind of young, but I've been cursing like a sailor since I was about that age sooooo whatevs. Also, I know that like, according to movies and shit 12 year olds aren't supposed to know a lot of big words and whatnot, but I figured that since, in my head both Stiles and Derek are well-read, their vocabularies would be quite extensive. I've noticed that I use a lot of 'sos' and 'alsos' and 'whichs' and 'ands.' 
> 
> Sorry, if that bothers you. It's not that I can't speak well 'cause I totally can. It's just that I choose not to. :)
> 
> If you find any errors, feel free to let me know. In fact, please do. I would greatly appreciate it even if you just wanna point out some awkward wording. Things that make sense in my mind often don't make sense to others lol I'm kind of horrible with commas. I really don't know what's up with that. Must've missed the day when we learned how to properly use commas in elementary.
> 
> Uhh, I don't want to be presumptuous and assume anyone will actually read this incredibly self-indulgent nonsense, but if you do thank you much, it means a lot c:


	2. Hard to Control When It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's fluff and a lot of (probably not necessary) dialogue and I don't know how this got so out of control I had a plot-plan and it just isn't happening fuck my life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from 'Young Blood' by The Naked and Famous. Listen to the Renholdër Remix! It's beautiful.
> 
> I am so sorry I took so long to put this up! Probably could’ve been finished earlier but I’d rather it come out to my satisfaction than to be rushed and shitty. On the plus side, I wrote a bit much so I'm gonna be putting up another chapter either tonight or tomorrow. Unless I go on another rambling tangent. In which case, your guess is as good as mine.
> 
> I’m gonna try to put at least two chapters a week, I want this shit done before Christmas since I’m moving a few days after. (Thank God)
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be a bit more, uh, substantial? I guess, but I sorta stuck with fluffy. I was enjoying writing Kid!Stiles and Derek far too much so it ended up being longer than I initially thought. I wrote part of this during the new SPN, part while hanging out with my bff/PIC, Cheese, and a good majority in my head while I was washing dishes. So seriously, let me know if you see any mistakes. Not like last time, guys. I totally found some mistakes in the first chapter and none of you mentioned it and I cried

Derek was pulled into a tight embrace as soon as he walked through the front door of his house. You’d think that at his age, he would have grown out of wanting hugs from his mom, but fuck that. He wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist and sighed contentedly.

Alpha hugs were the best.

“I was worried when you didn’t come home for lunch,” his mom said, patting his head. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost,” she chuckled, pulling back to give him a smile. Derek snorted.

Laura came out of the kitchen loaded up with a large bowl of ice cream and a bag of pretzels and headed towards the living room. She paused mid-step and swiveled her head in Derek’s direction with a gleam in her eye that immediately had Derek fighting the urge to flee.

She gave an audible sniff and a wicked smile flickered across her face before it was replaced with an air of innocence. Derek groaned internally.

Fucking werewolves.

He might be used to the lack of boundaries and privacy that came with being a wolf, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“It looks as though our wee, little Dee Dee has made a friend, Mother,” Laura said sweetly, giving him a sugary smile that in no way hid the evil intent lurking behind her eyes.

“You _do_ smell of human,” Derek’s mother said, eyeing him speculatively.

“Uh, yeah. I attend a school full of them, Mom,” Derek replied sarcastically.

She swatted the back of his head with a smirk. “Don’t be a smartass,” she said. “I meant you smell of _a_ human. As in one, specific human scent I don’t recognize. It’s stronger than any of the others,” she said, brow furrowed.

Derek grimaced. He had been just about to tell his mother about Stiles anyways, but there was just something so demeaning about having to do it while his sister ate her ice cream and watched him with her mocking expressions. It’s not like she wouldn’t be able to hear from anywhere else in the house. Why couldn’t she be a decent person for once in her godforsaken life and fuck off.

“It’s the new sheriff’s kid, Stiles,” Derek mumbled reluctantly, looking at the floor. “He sits next to me in class, now,” he said with a shrug.

“He- he’s not giving you a hard time, is he, honey?” his mom asked hesitantly.

“N—” was all Derek got out before his dad came barreling down the stairs, eyes glowing.

“Who’s bothering my baby?” his dad growled, teeth and claws extended and hackles risen.

Derek shot his mother a look that said, _‘Gee, thanks. Now, look what you’ve done.’_

Derek’s father had always been extremely protective of Derek and Laura when it came to things like this. Which was a bit strange since he thought it was hilarious when his children were mauling each other (or rather Laura was mauling Derek and Derek was too busy trying not to die to properly defend himself.) He’d even egg them on, shouting things like, “Marvelous sport!” and “Excellent form!" as they rolled around on the floor throwing blows.

The Pack often reminisced about the many times his father had gone batshit-mother hen on the hapless humans that had the misfortune of thinking it was wise to mess with his cubs.

Like the time they’d all gone to the store, Derek still in diapers and Laura just four. An older kid had approached Laura and laughingly told her she was the ugliest boy he’d ever seen in his life, making her eyes fill up and lower lip wobble. Derek’s father had appeared behind the boy, eyes gleaming and mouth full of sharp teeth, and as the kid turned to leave he got an eyeful of their dad and nearly pissed himself. Derek’s dad had gotten in the boy’s face and snarled, “If you ever talk to one of my pups that way again, I will end you and feed you to the birds, you little shit.”

Alpha Hale had had to drag her husband away from the cowering, pale-faced child by the collar of his shirt.

Derek sighed and steeled himself for the dramatics that were about to take place. His mother mouthed _‘Sorry, kid’_ through a snicker, looking thoroughly unrepentant.

“Dad, no one’s bothering me—” Derek tried.

“You don’t have to lie for the human, Derek. I’ll make sure he never does it again,” he promised. “I might even let him live,” he added with a demented smile. Laura and his mother were laughing.

Which was nice of them. Laughing at his pain and all.

“Dad, no, Stiles isn’t bothering me,” Derek said, panicked. “He’s my _friend_. And he, uhm, kinda invited me to stay the night at his house tomorrow.”

They all froze— including his father who had been all but shaking with the need to avenge Derek’s honor or something— and stared at him, jaws slack.

His dad tackled him and swung him around like a ragdoll. “My baby made friends with a human!” he crowed proudly.

“What was that, Arthur?” a voice piped up from the top of the stairs. “Derek has gotten himself a companion, you say?”

“No, it’s not possible,” another one followed. “Not _our_ Derek, surely?”

Derek groaned. His uncles, Peter and Sam, were almost as bad as Laura. Almost, not quite.

“Yep, even got invited to the boy’s house!” his dad continued, as if they hadn’t been listening from the moment Derek stepped inside the house. Peter and Sammy were nosy bastards.

Their eyebrows rose in unison and they both leapt from the second floor in a synchronized motion, landing a few feet off from Derek and his parents. They would try and pass it off as skill, but Derek had caught them practicing the move before.

“Ooh, he smells lovely. Do tell,” Uncle Peter said, with an impish smile.

“Yes, tell us all about ‘Stiles,’” Uncle Sam agreed enthusiastically, seizing Derek by the arm and towing him to the couch, followed closely by Peter. The rest of the meddlesome bystanders piled on to the large, plush sofas that were arranged around the den.

Everyone was staring at Derek expectantly. “What’s for dinner?” he asked, trying to draw attention away from himself.

“Something bloody, I’m sure, quit stalling,” Laura answered unhelpfully around a spoonful of ice cream.

Derek looked to his mom for help but she simply looked at him from the loveseat where she was curled up with her husband without pity and waved her hand as if to say, _‘Well, get on with it.’_

Derek grumbled under his breath and fidgeted on the couch for a few moments. “Out with it, man!” Derek’s father prompted.

Derek sighed. “So, uh, Stiles is this dumbass who can’t sit still for five seconds and talks way too much to be healthy. He hates Ms. Richards because he thinks she’s boring. Which, by the way, is completely accurate.” Derek turned to his Uncle Peter, “You should take over the class, Uncle Peter. You’re much better suited.”

“Of course I am,” Peter agreed, reaching over to ruffle his nephew’s hair affectionately. “Stop changing the subject, brat,” he said.

“Fine! Stiles reads a lot and makes stupid references and he’s scrawny but surprisingly strong for a human his size. He’s funny. For a nerd. I told him I’ve never spent the night at anyone’s house and he didn’t laugh at me ‘cause he never has either. And when this kid called me a freak and asked Stiles why he was hanging around me, Stiles made him apologize and basically told him to fuck off and die,” Derek finished with a smile.

“Who was it, Derek? I’ll kill the little fucker!” Derek’s dad growled.

“Calm yourself, Arthur,” Derek’s mother said with a not quite suppressed smirk, placing a consoling hand on her mate’s arm.

“But, Emma,” Arthur whined in protest. “The bastard insulted our pup! He deserves death,” he said ominously.

“I know, dear, I know, but it seems as though Derek’s friend handled the situation well enough,” she replied, looking to Derek for confirmation. “Right, honey?”

Derek nodded.

“Ugh, fine. I don’t know why you people never let me do away with the little bastards. I would be doing the world a favor!” Derek’s father complained.

“Maybe you would be,” Uncle Sammy agreed. “However, children tend to have parents that would quite possibly be rather concerned with the sudden disappearance of said children.”

“Can we stop talking about murdering my classmates, please,” Derek asked without much hope.

“Why? Feeling squeamish, Dee Dee?” Laura smirked.

“Fuck off, Laurie.” Derek hated the nickname. Laura knew this and gleefully used it whenever she found occasion.

“Really mature, bitch.”

“Such vulgar language,” Uncle Peter said approvingly.

“You really needn’t sound so pleased about my children’s filthy mouths, little brother,” Em snorted.

“Like you actually care about—” Everyone’s head snapped towards the second floor at the sound of Gabe getting out of bed. He limped slowly down the stairs, looking generally irritated and yawning.

“‘Morning, Uncle Gabby,” Derek and Laura chirped.

Gabe flipped them off before grumpily saying, “Y’know, I might be human, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hear you when you’re screeching at each other at the top of your freakishly healthy lungs.”

“Sorry, Gabby,” they all sang.

Gabe clutched at his head and held up his hand. “Just- Stop. Ugh. Where’s my husband, you shits?”

“Right here, babe,” Sam answered, holding his arms out so Gabe could crawl into his lap.

“Gabe, it’s nearly 4 in the afternoon. Have you seriously been sleeping all day?” Derek asked.

“You try having a full grown werewolf mount you all night and then you can judge me for sleeping a little late,” Gabe snapped. “My back is killing me!”

And all the sudden, Derek wished he hadn’t said anything.

“You weren’t complaining last night when I had you screaming my name—”

Derek did his best to drown out this regrettably familiar argument. Laura and his mother just laughed and goaded them on, throwing in their (completely unnecessary) two cents. At least his dad wasn’t enjoying this conversation, either. He always took on this haunted expression when Gabe and Sam started talking about their sex life around him. When Derek had asked him about it, Arthur had replied by asking Derek how he’d feel if he and his mother talked about their sex life as openly as Gabe and Sam.

Derek had taken to wearing that haunted expression during these chats, too.

Mercifully, it was shortly after that when Aunt Rose’s SUV stopped in front of the house.

“I’m gonna need help with these groceries if any of you want dinner!” Rose called. They all knew Rose’s rule. If they didn’t help, they didn’t eat. Everyone, minus Gabe, ran outside to bring the groceries in knowing full well that Rose wasn’t fucking around.

Thank God for Aunt Rose.

-

Stiles was lucky. He had gotten a seat to himself on the bus.

Of course, it was in the front row, but whatever. At least the bus driver had decent taste in music.

He twitched in his seat the entire ride home, eager to tell his dad about his day. He was out of the bus before the door had even properly opened, earning a “Where’s the fire?” from the disgruntled driver.

Stiles burst into his house dropping his backpack on the couch and running to the kitchen calling, “Dad? Daaaad!” before he remembered that his father was still at work.

He exhaled heavily in disappointment and looked around the kitchen, cluttered with unpacked boxes. Might as well make use of himself.

By the time his father finally got home from work, Stiles had already organized the kitchen, started dinner and was at the table finishing up the homework that his teacher had assigned.

“Smells good, son,” his father called from the door. “What’re you making?” he asked, walking into the kitchen, eyes widening in surprise at the lack of mess. “And you unpacked the kitchen? Thanks, kid.” John smiled tiredly. “Wasn’t looking forward to doing it myself,” he said with a chuckle, taking the seat across from his son.

“It’s just some chicken and rice. Should be finished in ten. So, Dad, guess what?” Stiles didn’t wait for his reply. “I made a friend at school! His name is Derek and he’s really broody and he doesn’t mind when I talk too much, well, except during the test but really, that was his fault for taking so long. Oh! And he reads, too! He’s really funny, in an evil kind of way, and he—” Stiles chattered on, excitedly.

Tension that had been building up for months left John as he watched his son babble happily about his new friend. It had been a long time since he’d seen Stiles so lively. He’d nearly forgotten how great it was to see him laughing.

“—and he has pretty eyes and oh, yeah, he’s gonna spend the night tomorrow and we’re gonna watch all three Chronicles of Narnia movies,” he paused for a breath before thinking to ask, “That’s okay, right, Dad? If Derek stays over? ‘Cause I kinda already asked him…” He looked at his father hopefully.

“Pretty eyes, huh?” John asked, amused.

“Well, they _are,”_ Stiles said, petulantly.

John laughed at his son’s sullen expression.

“Daaad,” Stiles whined. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know, kid. I’ll have to conduct a full background check before I consent to anything,” John said solemnly.

“Bu— what? Dad!” Stiles sputtered.

John snickered at his distress. “Okay, okay,” he relented. “He can spend the night.”

Stiles did a little victory flail.

“But,” John continued. Stiles groaned and sank into his chair. “But, his parents have to give him permission, Stiles. I don’t want to be arrested for kidnapping.”

“They won’t arrest you, Dad, you’re the sheriff,” Stiles argued.

John narrowed his eyes at him.

“I mean, of course we’ll get permission from his parents,” Stiles backpedaled, giving him an angelic smile.

John sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

Stiles gave an evil cackle. Oddly enough, that didn’t reassure the sheriff.

At all.

-

The next morning Derek showed up to class, early as per usual, a little worried that Stiles would have changed his mind about having Derek over for the night, having Derek as a friend.

He needn’t have.

Stiles plopped into his seat a few minutes after Derek, sitting as close as he had the day before.

“Looked for you outside and didn’t see you, so I figured you were staying true to your anti-social nature and hiding in class,” Stiles smirked, nudging Derek’s shoulder with his own.

“I’m not hiding, dick,” Derek said, knocking his shoulder back into Stiles’ with a little more force than necessary.

“Course not,” Stiles laughed, rubbing his smarting shoulder. “Jesus, you’re twelve years old. Lay off the juice, would ya?”

Derek shot him a confused look.

“Y’know, ‘roids? Steroids? Never mind, dude, not important. So, I told my dad that you were coming over tonight and he said it was totally cool,” Stiles grinned. “As long as your parents say it’s okay, that is,” he corrected, looking a bit vexed.

“They’re fine with it,” Derek assured him. They had eventually agreed to let Derek go once they’d gotten past all of ~~his father’s~~ the Pack’s dramatics.

“Sweeeet!” Stiles sang. “Did you bring your pjs? Or are you gonna go home first and then have your parents drop you off? My dad wants to meet your parents, but he says that meeting them when they pick you up is fine, too.”

“I brought my clothes,” Derek replied. “It’s okay if we walk to your house, right?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s not that far from here,” Stiles answered. “Is that how you usually get home? Walking? Do you have amaxophobia?” he asked, curious.

“Amaxo- what? What does that even _mean_?”

“It’s a fear of riding in cars. There’s probably one specific to buses, but, eh,” Stiles said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Derek gave him his most put-upon sigh. “No, Stiles. I don’t have a fear of riding in cars. I have a fear of being in an enclosed space with idiots.”

“I think you just want to spend more time with me, alooone,” Stiles drawled, batting his eyelashes.

Derek couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You caught me, Stiles. It was just a ploy to get you all to myself. Because obviously agreeing to spend an entire day and night with you just wasn’t enough for me. I had to have more,” he said drily.

“I knew it,” Stiles replied seriously. “You only keep me around for my magnificent bod.”

Stiles put on an offended air when Derek started laughing, but after few moments he was chortling along with him.

They were still laughing when their classmates began trickling in from the playground.

It earned them the same curious looks as yesterday but this time neither noticed.

They laughed and mocked their way through the monotony of class and managed to make it through the day without killing themselves or each other.

Stiles was counting it as a definite win.

-

“How far’s your house from here?” Stiles asked as they walked to his house after school let out.

“It’s in the woods,” Derek hedged. “Not that far.” For a werewolf, he finished to himself.

“How come you have to walk? Your parents don’t have a car? Your parents never wanted you and your punishment for living is having to walk home every day? You—”

“I don’t ‘have to,’” Derek cut him off. “I like walking after spending all day in class. I feel restless after sitting so long.”

“I get that way, too,” Stiles said with an understanding nod, turning down the walkway to his house.

“Stiles, we just walked nearly two miles and you’re still fidgeting. You’re just a twitchy bastard that can’t stay still no matter what you’re doing,” Derek said.

“Or that could be it,” Stiles agreed easily, chuckling.

He unlocked the front door and dragged Derek up the stairs to his room.

“I’d have thought your room would be some annoyingly cheerful color like orange or neon green,” Derek said, eyeing the grey walls.

“Spent a lot of time thinking about my room, have you?” Stiles asked, flopping onto his bed and waggling his eyebrows at Derek.

“And you in it,” Derek agreed. Stiles laughed delightedly, thrilled that Derek was playing along. And then Derek finished, “Dying a slow and painful death.”

“Way to kill the mood, Der-Bear,” Stiles griped playfully.

“What’d I tell you about calling me that, Stiles?” Derek growled.

“I think you’re just upset ‘cause you haven’t come up with a badass nickname for me, yet,” Stiles smirked.

“Sure, I have. It’s dumbass. Or dipshit,” Derek replied.

Stiles laughed. “Well, those are unimaginative.”

“But fitting,” Derek said.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at Derek and hopped off the bed, walking to his dresser. “Okay, let’s do this shit,” he smiled, holding up a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt victoriously.

“Is that—” Derek walked closer, squinting at the pants. “Dear God, yes, that is. Those are Spongebob pajama pants,” Derek said with a kind of dull horror.

“Fuck yeah, man!” Stiles grinned.

“ _Why_ are those Spongebob pajama pants,” Derek asked, moving on to full-scale horror mode.

“I love Spongebob, bro!” Stiles laughed. “Don’t try to play it cool. You and I both know you watch the show.”

“Watch, not actively buy merchandise of aforementioned show!” Derek protested. “Oh my God, do you have, like, a Spongebob fetish or something? You don’t have posters and stuffed animals and shit and you just haven’t put them up yet because you barely moved in, right?”

Stiles flung his arms around Derek. “I’m so proud of you right now. You asked me questions and they all actually _sounded_ like questions,” he fake-sobbed into Derek’s shoulder. “That’s _progress_ , man.”

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” John asked wryly.

“Yes, you are! Derek just had a major breakthrough and you ruined the moment,” Stiles said, arms still around Derek.

The latter gave John a pleading look, silently asking him to get his kid off of Derek.

“Ooh,” the sheriff said. “So, this is the Derek with the pretty eyes?” he asked, eyeing him.

“Daaad!” Stiles whined, mortified, letting go of Derek to stand in front of his father. “Not cool, Dad! What about the bro code, huh?”

“You told your father that I have pretty eyes,” Derek repeated, hand on his forehead.

“Well, you _do_!” Stiles said indignantly. The look Derek shot him questioned his sanity. “See, Dad. Now you’ve obviously made Derek feel insecure about his lovely eyes.” He shook his head. “The sheriff really should have better manners,” he sighed.

“Riiiight,” John drawled. “Well, I’m gonna be on the night shift so you boys have fun. I left money for pizza in the kitchen and Stiles made sure we had snacks. Call if you need anything. Oh, and Derek, it was good meeting you. I want to apologize in advance for any of the damage my wonderful son causes to your mental health,” he said with an apologetic grimace. “Night, boys!” he called over his shoulder.

Stiles bounced around gleefully, “We get the house to ourselves, sweet!”

“Fuck my life,” Derek groaned. “I was promised adult supervision!”

“Why would you be disappointed by lack of supervision?” Stiles wondered.

“He left me here. Alone. With _you,”_ Derek lamented. “I’m gonna die.”

“Cheer up, buttercup,” Stiles said, smacking Derek on the shoulder. “Now, time to change into your jammies.”

“This will all end in tears.”

“Are you purposely quoting Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?” Stiles asked in wonder. “Because if you are, I think I’m gonna ask you to marry me.”

“No, no I am most definitely not, I don’t even know what that is,” Derek said quickly.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to go ring shopping tomorrooow,” Stiles sang.

Stiles laughed at Derek’s horrified expression. “C’mon, Derek. Jammies. Jammies are a thing that should’ve happened hours ago.”

Derek groused but complied, hastily changing into the pair of sweats and t-shirt he’d brought with him.

“Sweatpants? Really, Derek?” Stiles asked, eyebrows raised.

“What’s wrong with my sweats?” They were comfortable as hell.

“Boooring!”

 _“You’re_ boring.”

“Oh, good one,” Stiles replied sarcastically.

“Ass.”

“Dick.”

They grinned at each other, Stiles in his Spongebob pjs and Derek in his sensible sweats and t-shirt combo.

They headed downstairs and while Stiles grabbed them snacks and drinks, Derek put the movie on.

“Alright, it’s time. Time for you to become a man,” Stiles said dramatically, standing in front of the tv. “You’re ready, now.”

“Stiles, I swear to God if you don’t shut up and start damn the movie I’m going to—”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Rip your throat out with my teeth,’ I got it,” he mimicked, flapping his hand dismissively.

“I do not sound like that,” Derek growled.

“If you say so, buddy,” Stiles replied skeptically, grabbing the remote and flopping down next to Derek on the couch. Derek jabbed him in the side in retaliation for the slight.

“Ow!” Stiles yelped, rubbing the spot and giving Derek, _‘Why would you do that?’_ eyes.

Derek settled into his seat with a satisfied smile.

-

Stiles was unexpectedly good at being quiet during movies. He made a passing comment here and there but most of the time he was silent and still, absorbed in the film.

The movie was good but as it went in most cases, Derek had enjoyed the book more.

Derek found himself watching Stiles’ reactions to the movie, smiling slightly in response to the way Stiles lit up at certain parts. He was more than a little unsure of what to do when Stiles started tearing up after Mr. Tumnus had been turned into a statue.

“Mr. Tumnus is the nicest little faun ever,” Stiles sniffled. “He was always my favorite character. Even though he was totally gonna screw Lucy over. It wasn’t his fault! Jadis was such a bitch, man.”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset, you know he doesn’t die,” Derek pointed out.

“I just really like Tumnus, okay?” Derek laughed quietly at Stiles’ defensive tone.

Stiles fell asleep on Derek during the last movie, sometime around midnight, after eating half of a large pizza, a half dozen wings and breadsticks, not to mention the veritable mountain of chips and candy they’d devoured before the pizza had even arrived. For someone so small, Stiles could put it away like a champ.

 The last conscious thought that Derek had was that Stiles would fit right in with the Pack.

He fell asleep not long after Stiles, dreaming of a loudmouthed boy stuffing his face at Derek’s kitchen table, yelling and laughing along with Derek’s family.

-

When John got home after his shift, he found his son and Derek curled up on the couch. They looked so peaceful and content that John couldn’t help but take a picture. Strictly for blackmail purposes, of course. At least, that was what he telling himself. (It was really because they looked adorable.)

John wandered into the kitchen, looking for something to eat but instead finding a sign that read,

_Don’t bother looking. We ate all the pizza. There’s salad in the fridge! :)_

_Love, Stiles_

The little shit even had the gall to draw a huge heart beneath the cruel note.

John laughed in spite of himself and tucked the note into the pocket of his uniform.

After he’d finished eating, he grabbed a blanket from the cupboard, tucked the boys in and headed to his room to get some sleep.

-

Stiles woke up on the best pillow ever. It didn’t feel like _his_ pillow but he was far too comfortable to care. He ran a hand over it, admiring its’ softness.

“You do realize you’re petting me, right,” Derek rumbled from beneath him, still half asleep.

“Oh my G—” Stiles flailed, nearly falling off of the couch. “Warn a guy, Derek! You scared the bejesus out of me!”

“You’re right. I am _so_ sorry for not warning you that I was here after you decided to use me as a human pillow and then proceeded to grope me first thing in the morning,” Derek deadpanned.

“As you should be,” Stiles replied in a dignified manner, settling back in and rubbing his face over Derek’s stomach. Derek tried smothering the laugh the motion elicited and failed miserably.

Stiles sat up with a gleam in his eyes that Derek really wasn‘t liking the look of. “Are you _ticklish_ , Derek?” he inquired disbelievingly.

“No,” Derek said quickly, trying to shove Stiles off of him completely in an attempt to sit up.

“You’re a filthy liar!”

“Stiles, if you tickle me I will murder you,” Derek warned.

“My father will avenge me,” Stiles sang, reaching forward and tickling Derek against all better judgment.

Stiles was on top of Derek cackling madly, when John came into the living room.

“Save me! You’re supposed to be a cop,” Derek wheezed pitifully at Mr. Stilinski.

John just chuckled and said, “If I knew how to save you from Stiles, believe me, I would. I’m gonna go make breakfast. You like pancakes, Derek?” he asked as he walked to the kitchen.

“Your dad’s as evil as you are,” Derek gasped between laughs.

“Course, where d’you think I got it from,” Stiles laughed, not relenting in his attack for a moment. “Now, say ‘Uncle’ and I’ll release you.”

Derek hooked his leg around Stiles, tumbling them off the couch onto the ground and putting Stiles in a headlock. _“You_ say ‘Uncle,’ bitch,” Derek growled, victorious.

“Dad!” Stiles squawked. “Dad, help!”

“One or two eggs, Derek?” John called in response.

“Two’s good, thanks,” Derek answered.

“Traitor!” Stiles yelled.

“Maybe I’d be feeling more charitable this morning, if I had gotten some pizza last night,” John mused.

“DAD!”

“Say ‘Uncle’ and I’ll let you go,” Derek said lazily, enjoying himself.

“Fuck! Uncle,” Stiles mumbled.

“What? What was that? Could you maybe say it a bit louder?”

“Goddammit. UNCLE!”

Derek released him with a chuckle.

He stood up and offered Stiles a hand and a smirk.

“Smug bastard,” Stiles laughed, letting Derek pull him up. “Ugh. I think you broke something,” he complained, stretching his arms over his head and yawning.

“Food’s done, boys!”

Derek ate his breakfast, which was fantastic by the way, and watched as Stiles and his father bantered easily. It was a lot like breakfast at his own house, except with fewer people. And less yelling. And no one shifting in the middle of the meal and leaping over the table to attack someone.

It was nice.

“What time are your folks gonna be by to pick you up, son?” John asked Derek.

“Rude,” Stiles remarked.

“I’m not being rude. I have to work again tonight and I wanted to meet Derek’s parents before I leave,” he protested.

“Wait. You’re working all night?” Stiles asked. “I thought you were gonna be on the day shift, now.”

“On weekdays, yes,” his father answered. “Weekends, I’m on the night shift.”

“But, that means I’ll be here. All night,” Stiles said. John stared at him, eyebrows raised. _“Alone.”_

John sighed at him. “You’ll be fine, Stiles.”

“You trust me to be on my own for long periods of time?!” he asked incredulously.

“Actually, no,” John replied, starting to look sick.

“Someone could try to break in! I could get kidnapped!” Stiles exclaimed. “I could forget that I put on noodles and burn down the entire village!”

“Oh, for the love of God,” John groaned.

“Stiles could come stay at my house, tonight,” Derek interjected. Both Stilinskis stared at him. “I could ask my parents when they pick me up,” he offered.

“Thanks, kid. That’d be great,” John said, looking vastly relieved. Stiles grinned at Derek across the table.

“Haven’t had enough, huh?” he asked with a wag of his eyebrows.

“I’m taking pity on your father, jerk, not trying to spend more time with you,” Derek retorted, flushing.

“Sure, you are,” Stiles smirked. Flipping him off would probably be considered rude under the circumstances, so Derek settled for sticking out his tongue.

“My Mom and Dad should be here around noon,” Derek told John.

“What time is it?” Stiles wondered.

“Just past 11:40. Why don’t you and Derek go upstairs and get your stuff ready, I’ll clean up breakfast.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Stiles jumped up and ran up the stairs.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Stilinski,” Derek said.

The sheriff waved his hand, “Call me, John. And thank you, really. For offering to keep an eye on my boy. I know he can be quite the handful,” he said with a wry chuckle.

Derek gave a quiet snort. “I don’t mind, really. Stiles isn’t so bad.”

John gave him a knowing smile and shooed him upstairs.

Stiles was in the shower when Derek walked into his room. He sat on Stiles’ bed and glanced around. Stiles’ room was completely unpacked save for a couple of big boxes labeled ‘books’ in large, neat letters.

Derek considered looking through the boxes, but decided against it. He flopped down on the bed and dozed until he heard his parents’ car pull up.

_“They could be hunters, though, Em,” Arthur was saying._

_“Arthur, you are not to threaten Derek’s new friend or his father, do you understand me,” his mother said in her ‘no-nonsense’ voice._

_“But—”_

_“No, buts.”_

_“Bu—”_

_“No,” she said, exasperated. “There will be no maiming, biting or killing.”_

_“Emmm,” Arthur whined._

_“Don’t make me leave you in this car, Arthur.”_

Derek laughed. He didn’t know why his father bothered arguing. He always gave in eventually.

_“It’s not funny, brat,” Derek’s father pouted._

“Kinda is,” Derek disagreed.

_“They haven’t mistreated you?”_

“No, Dad. I’m completely fine.”

_“Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with, then.” His parents walked to the front door and knocked._

_“Don’t be rude, Arthur.”_

_His father sighed dejectedly._

“My parents are here,” Derek told Stiles as he walked into the room.

“So, why’re you still up here?”

“I was waiting for you,” Derek replied as if it should’ve been obvious.

“Aw, sweet potato, you shouldn’t have.” Stiles blew him a kiss. Derek flipped him off. “C’mon, then, let’s go meet the parents,” he said, chuckling.

John and the Hales were at the kitchen table drinking coffee when the boys walked in.

Arthur scuttled over to Derek and scooped him up in a bear hug. Wolf hug. Whatever.

Derek patted his back until Arthur was ready to let him go. “I’m okay, Dad.”

“I know, pup.” his father sighed. He focused on Stiles. “This is your Stiles, yes?”

“He’s not _my_ —” Derek began.

“I’m sorry, did your dad just call you ‘pup’ or did I mishear that?” Stiles blurted. Derek groaned internally.

“It’s a family endearment,” Em interjected smoothly. “I suppose it _is_ a bit odd.”

“It’s not that weird,” Stiles assured her. “My father prefers calling me a dumbass so it could be worse,” he chuckled. Derek’s parents laughed at that.

“Language, Stiles,” John said sternly, mouth twitching as he tried not to smile.

“Sorry, Dad,” Stiles said, smiling sheepishly.

“Don’t lie,” Derek muttered just loud enough for Stiles to hear. Well, Stiles and his parents if they were paying attention.

“Shut up, dick,” Stiles whispered, not wanting to interrupt. Their fathers were talking— it seemed as though Arthur had gotten over his aversion to Mr. Stilinski.

“Ass,” Derek replied.

Stiles laughed, butting Derek with his shoulder. Mrs. Hale watched, expression fond, as Derek bumped Stiles’ shoulder with his own.

“Hey, Mom, is it okay if Stiles stays at our house tonight while Mr. Stilinski works?” Derek asked.

“Of course. Stiles is welcome at our home anytime,” his mother responded with a smile.

Derek blinked. An open invitation to the home of an Alpha was kind of a big deal.

She turned to his father. “You, too, John. Sunday brunch is at eleven. I expect to see you there,” she said narrowing her eyes at him.

Mr. Stilinski chuckled nervously. “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s settled, then. We’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the coffee, it was wonderful.” She gave John a hug. “Have you got your clothes, Stiles?”

“Yep, just let me go grab my bag.” He ran upstairs.

“Thank you for letting our boy spend the night,” Arthur said, also pulling John in for a hug.

His parents went to start the car, leaving Mr. Stilinski looking a bit lost.

“Sorry,” Derek apologized. “My family can be kind of overly affectionate.”

John cleared his throat, “Uh, no, no, it’s fine.”

“Don’t let my dad convince you otherwise, the Stilinskis are huggers,” Stiles said as he ran up and embraced his father. “Bye, Dad. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, kid,” John returned gruffly, bending down to give his son a kiss on the forehead. “Try not to damage anything too badly. I don’t wanna have to come and arrest you.”

-

It didn’t surprise Derek in the least that the Pack loved Stiles.

He was just as loud and obnoxious as the rest of them.

They spent the day watching bad tv, playing hide and seek with the ~~cubs~~ kids— Stiles was flabbergasted with how easily they all found him in such a large house— and eating. Aunt Rose even made Stiles her peanut butter cookies. After dinner, the Pack sprawled out in the living room, munching on cookies and drinking milk.

“I’m in love,” Stiles sighed happily, shoving his eighth cookie of the hour in his mouth. “Rose, I love you. Will you marry me? I think my dad might object, at first, but if you promise to supply him with a lifetime’s worth of these cookies, he’ll see the light.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve already got my ball and chain,” she nodded to Peter who smirked at Stiles.

“Peter’s not a young man anymore,” Stiles said somberly. “He could drop dead at any moment. And when that moment comes, I’ll be there to mend your broken heart.” Needless to say, Uncle Peter found that hilarious.

“Thanks, Stiles, that’s really sweet,” Rose replied drily, while Peter laughed.

“Anytime, Rose. Anytime.”

“If you knew how to clean, I’d let you be _my_ replacement husband,” Gabe said. “Shit, I’d get rid of Sam myself.”

Stiles considered it seriously. “Can you make cookies?”

“No, but I can get ‘em for you whenever you want, kid.”

“You don’t want Gabe, Stiles. He’s got cooties,” Sam interjected, pulling his husband on to his lap and biting his shoulder.

Stiles laughed, “I think Sam’s pretty invested, Uncle Gabby, sorry.” Stiles had adopted the nickname after hearing Derek address Gabe as such.

“Hey, how come Gabe gets an ‘Uncle’ and I don’t?” Sam complained.

“Yes, I was wondering the same,” Peter added.

“Fine, I’ll call you Uncle Sam and Uncle Peter but you can’t make me call Rose ‘Aunt’ since I love her.”

“You only love her for her cookies,” Derek accused.

“That sounded like a euphemism,” Gabe commented.

“Stiles,” Laura started, eyeing him in a way that made Derek cringe, “Why are you wasting your time with a loser like Derek?” Derek flipped her off.

 “Derek’s not a loser,” Stiles defended him, indignant. “He’s great!”

“When’s the wedding?” someone tittered.

Stiles flushed and Derek choked on his cookie.

“Shut up, Arthur,” Em laughed. “You’re supposed to be an adult.”

“Stiles would’ve never known it was me if you hadn’t said anything!”

“You shouldn’t have said it in the first place,” Em chided.

“Yeah, Artie,” Gabe said, nodding in agreement. “Now, Stiles is gonna think we were raised by a pack of wolves.”

The Pack burst into laughter while Derek simply groaned. “You’ve been waiting all night to use that one, haven’t you?”

Stiles looked at him in confusion. Derek shook his head and sighed. “It’s really not worth getting into.”

Em stared at her son, brow furrowed in bemusement.

-

Stiles followed Derek up to his room after Mama Hale— as Stiles had taken to calling her— sent everyone off to bed.

Derek’s room was huge. He had books scattered everywhere but other than that it was pretty tidy.

“Whoa. Nice digs, man,” Stiles said, plopping onto Derek’s massive bed and looking around. “And look at that, you’ve got your own bathroom and everything.”

“Do I?” Derek asked in mock surprise.

“Douche,” Stiles chuckled, lying back on the bed. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to being in the homes of rich people.”

Derek shifted uncomfortably. “We’re not.. rich.”

“Dude, you totally live in a mansion! With your entire family! In the middle of the woods! Which, by the way, I can’t believe you tried to tell me that you didn’t live that far from school.” He was gesturing wildly towards the ceiling. “Why the _fuck_ do you walk home?”

“I like the exercise?” Derek shrugged.

Stiles gave him a look. “No one likes to exercise, Derek.”

“You brought pajamas, right?” Derek asked.

“Smooth change of subject. Really, I didn’t even notice.”

“Change your clothes, Stiles.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles grumbled, getting up to rifle through his bag. He stripped out of his clothes and pulled on his pjs.

“There is a bathroom you could change in, you know. You pointed it out to me not too long ago,” Derek said wryly.

“Too far,” Stiles mumbled, throwing himself back onto Derek’s bed. “Ohmigod,” Stiles moaned appreciatively, snuggling into one of Derek’s many pillows. “Your bed is heaven.”

“Are you seriously just gonna leave your dirty clothes on my floor?” Derek groused.

“I can’t hear you all the way in heaveeen!” Stiles sang.

Derek laughed and picked the clothes up, throwing them in his hamper. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of shorts.

“Oh, man. I can’t believe I’m so tired,” Stiles spoke into Derek’s pillow. “Your niece and nephews might be too hardcore for me.”

“Gabe and Rose will be so proud,” Derek chuckled as he changed.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Stiles started, turning over to look at Derek. “Liam is adopted, right?” Liam was Sam and Gabe’s two year old terror and he was most definitely _not_ adopted.

“Uhh, it’s kinda complicated,” Derek evaded, turning off the light and climbing into bed.

Stiles took the hint. “Fuck, your bed is magical. I would marry it if that were even possible.”

“You’re kind of a whore, aren’t you? Giving your affections away so freely,” Derek mused. “First with me, then with my aunt and now with my bed? When is enough gonna be enough?” he asked, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“Do I detect a smidge of jealousy?” Stiles smirked. “Don’t worry, baby. You know you’re my number one,” he said, reaching over and pinching Derek’s cheek.

Derek swatted his hand away, snorting. “Go to sleep, Stiles.”

“Oh my God, I just realized we never even talked about whether or not you loved the movies!”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Derek reasoned.

“No, no, no! This is of the utmost importance, Derek!” Stiles protested.

Derek relented with a sigh. “They were all pretty good. I liked the first one best.”

“That’s it? That’s all I get for all my troubles?”

“They should’ve started with _The Magician’s Nephew_. Now, let me sleep.”

“This discussion isn’t over,” Stiles warned.

“Only because you won’t let it die,” Derek mumbled, making Stiles snicker.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you,” Stiles murmured softly after his laughter had died out. “You’re family is awesome. Kinda makes me wish I had a big family.”

“You can share mine,” Derek offered. “Although, you might reconsider accepting if you give it a little time.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Stiles yawned. “Night, Der-Bear.”  He fell asleep within seconds.

“You’re welcome,” Derek responded quietly, before shutting his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I wrote Stiles kind of touch-y, feel-y and Derek kind of, 'Ugh, no don't touch me, peasant,' (but secretly, he doesn't mind.) Uhh I forgot where I was going with that. There's a lot of pseudo-flirting. It's meant to be just banter, it's how my friends and I talk to each other soooo
> 
> P.S. There might be some angst down the road because c’mon this is a Sterek fic with plot so yeah. Angst. That’s probably gonna happen. And by angst I mean manly man-pain of course.
> 
> P.P.S. I tried to change the chapter total to ‘fuck if I know’ but it didn’t exactly work out so I’m probably just gonna change it to that convenient little question mark. I don’t think it’ll be getting much longer than ten chapters and I’m pretty positive that it’s not gonna be under, but yeah. IDK, man. I just don’t wanna lie to anyone.
> 
> P.P.P.S. I’m sure no one caught the very subtle ‘Gargoyles’ reference but yeah, it’s there. I love the fuck out of Gargoyles and the show’s depiction of Oberon is one that has stuck with me for years. Also, references to Adventure Time and probably to other things. Idk I'm a loser and I watch a lot of shit.
> 
> Ugh too many ‘Ps’ now but, uh, I was looking at the synonyms that Word offered for ‘morning’ because I don’t know it’s 3 AM and (I must be lonely) apparently cock-crow is a valid option. I just might use that one day. Prepare yourselves.
> 
> It is now 6:51 AM and I have found another brilliant synonym in the Microsoft Word Thesaurus. I looked up ‘thrilled’ and got ‘detective novel’
> 
> Captain's Log: December 1st, 11:30 P.M. Fuck Word. It offers me the most ridiculous word substitutes and everything I write is fucking underlined in squiggly green and red. It's driving me insane! Maybe I like using run-on sentences, Word! Maybe I like fragments, too oh my god why are you such a cunt


	3. You're a Wolf, Boy, Get Out of this Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine I've got a love and I know that it's all mine whoaa
> 
> Idk there's Sterek and tears and they've actually progressed in age (though not by much) and I solemnly swear that the next chapter they will be considered old enough to do sex things. (Even though they probably won't be doing sex things in said chapter I'm sorry)
> 
> This is not my best work. It feels like a filler chapter tbh (even if I am fond of a few parts)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from 'You're a Wolf' by Sea Wolf.
> 
> To the wonderful users that have left me comments: I am so sorry I’m such a floosy it’s just I basically want to love and marry you all
> 
> Uhhh, I’m sorry if this is fucked up. I’m running on zero hours of sleep. I’d say message me if you find any mistakes but it’s not like you fuckers actually do it anyway :c lolol okay I’m gonna sleep now, I'll check for typos later. Goodbye, cruel world
> 
> SN: I would just like to say that my use of 'Whorrible' has nothing to do with the character it's referring to being a woman, teacher, or whatever other crazy thing you might be (but hopefully aren't) thinking
> 
> I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I don't care who you are, where you're from, don't care what you've done (as long as you love me!— and if you don't get that reference then you're too young to be reading a porn-filled fic, shame on you haha kidding I don't really care that's kind of the point) you're all equally whore-ish to me.

Derek woke up pressed against a warm and unfamiliar weight. His eyes snapped open as his wolf broke for the surface, eyes flashing and claws growing, until he realized it was just Stiles. He slumped back, rolling away from Stiles’ sleeping form and—

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Derek cursed. “Gabby, why the fuck are you in my bed staring at me and Stiles while we’re sleeping? Kinda creepy!”

Gabe ignored the outburst. “Your mom says you can tell him, if you want,” He nodded towards Stiles. “The family secret,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

“I’m not telling him,” Derek said, resolute.

“Why the hell not? He’s a great kid!” Gabe cried, offended on Stiles’ behalf.

“Gabe, you only met him yesterday,” Derek said slowly. “I’ve only known him for three days. I’m not telling him. Not yet.”

“You’re smarter than you look, kid,” Gabe replied approvingly, rolling out of Derek’s bed. “Oh, and I got some pictures of you two cuddling,” he called over his shoulder.

“We weren’t cuddling!” Derek denied, getting out of bed and following his uncle down to the kitchen where his mother and Aunt Rose were preparing brunch, Sam and Laura sitting on the island in the center of the room and picking at the food.

“Don’t worry, ‘Der-Bear’. I’ll save them for your future children,” Gabe snickered.

 _“SAM,”_ Derek snarled angrily, glaring at the older man who flinched but otherwise pretended not to hear him.

“Oh, don’t be mad at Sammy,” Gabe smirked. “They were all listening. I’m sure if he hadn’t told me about Stiles’ cute pet name, someone else would’ve.”

“I definitely would’ve, Gabby,” Laura volunteered. “You know me, I can’t pass up an opportunity to embarrass my dear, little brother,” she said, giving Derek a syrupy smile.

And Derek, well…

Derek probably could’ve handled the situation in a better manner than tackling Laura and proceeding to get his ass handed to him, because yeah, Laura was bigger and stronger and also a female wolf with a lot of pent up rage, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone when five minutes later Laura was standing with her foot on Derek’s windpipe and laughing with a crazed look in her eye.

“Mom,” Derek choked, scrabbling at Laura’s foot. “A little help?”

“Laura, you can’t kill your brother right now. We have a guest,” Em said without turning away from the stove.

“Yes, Mummy,” Laura sighed, taking her foot off of her brother’s throat.

“Gee, thanks, Mom,” Derek croaked sarcastically.

“You’re welcome, dear,” his mother replied. “Now go take a bath, you smell awful. We don’t want the sheriff to think we’re barbarians, do we?”

“I don’t smell,” Derek protested. Laura and Gabe laughed at him while Sam took on a look of concentration and sniffed in Derek’s direction.

“You don’t smell _that_ bad,” Sam agreed. “But you should probably take a shower just to be polite.”

“Oh, God, if Sam’s telling you to shower, you know you need one. He barely believes in bathing as it is,” Gabe shuddered.

Sam smirked. “I never hear you complaining about me not showering after I’m done fucking your brain—”

“So, I’m gonna take a shower,” Derek interrupted, fleeing, his family’s laughter following him upstairs.

After Derek had showered and changed, he flopped down on his bed. Stiles was still asleep, mumbling quietly into his pillow. “It’s okay, Mr. Tumnus, don’t cry.” Derek sniggered. Stiles sighed and shifted. “Jadis is such a _bitch.”_ Derek laughed harder and leaned across the bed to shake Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles floundered, a bit disoriented, before focusing and giving Derek a sleepy smile. “Morning, Der-Bear.”

Derek had to stifle a groan as he heard his douche bag family chorus, _“Morning, Der-Bear!”_ from downstairs.

“Stiles, what’d I tell you about that,” Derek growled.

Laura relayed what Derek had said to Gabe who giggled and said, _“You don’t have to tell him to stop on_ our _account,_ Der-Bear _.”_ Derek did his best to ignore his family and their fucked up sense of humor. 

“You love it,” Stiles replied breezily. “Ugh. What time is it? Is it almost time for brunch because I am fucking _famished_.”

“We’ve got about twenty minutes ‘til your dad gets here, if you want to shower,” Derek offered.

“Fine,” Stiles grumbled. “Can I borrow your tooth brush?”

Derek arched his eyebrows and pretended to think about it. “How ‘bout, no. I do, however, have a new, _spare_ tooth brush that you can _have.”_

“I guess that means the honeymoon’s over, huh?” Stiles pouted, getting out of bed. Laura, who had been the only one still eavesdropping, heard this and repeated it to the rest of the Pack, making them burst into laughter once again. Derek ground his teeth together.

“Where’s my clothes?” Stiles asked, looking around. “Did you throw them out? Hide them because I didn’t pick them up? Did you _burn_ them?” He glared accusingly at Derek.

He rolled his eyes at Stiles’ dramatics. “I threw them in the hamper,” Derek answered, nodding towards it. “I’ll wash ‘em and give them back.”

“I kinda forgot to bring an extra set,” Stiles admitted, sheepish.

“You can borrow some of mine,” Derek said. _(“How domestic,” Peter snickered, having joined the Pack in the kitchen after getting the cubs ready for brunch.)_

“Thanks!” Stiles immediately opened up Derek’s drawers and rifled through them, searching for something to wear. He ended up choosing Derek’s favorite Batman t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

“Thought sweatpants were boring?” Derek sniped.

“They totally are! But I’m pretty sure that they’re the only thing you own that won’t fall off y’know because of the drawstrings.”

“We can’t all be scrawny, Stiles.”

“Takes a lot of dedication,” Stiles agreed.

“Towels are in the bathroom, dummy,” Derek laughed. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.”

Derek lay on his bed, trying to read while Stiles showered. It was a bit difficult because, apparently, Stiles sang in the shower.

And it was just… lovely.

He was screeching some horribly butchered version of _‘All These Things I’ve Done’_ when Derek heard a car turning onto the road that lead to the Hale house.

Stiles came out of the bathroom a little later, drowning in Derek’s clothes.

“They fit you well,” Derek said, giving Stiles a smirk. “Nice pipes, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Stiles sniffed.

“Stiles, your dad’s here!” Laura called from downstairs.

“Food!” Stiles cried, grabbing Derek’s arm and yanking him off the bed. He let go once Derek was on his feet and scampered downstairs.

Derek looked after him in amusement.

It should’ve been strange how easily Stiles had fit himself into Derek’s life. Derek hadn’t even been able to concentrate on his book because he’d been too busy mulling over what Gabe had said. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Stiles, because now that he thought about it, he kinda did. He was just worried about how Stiles was going to react.

Derek decided to wait for the right time.

Whenever that was.

-

Brunch was a success. If success meant no one had died and there was only minimal bloodshed.

Well, no, there was no bloodshed though it probably would’ve been preferable to what Derek had just been subjected to.

At least Stiles had gotten his fair share of mortification, too.

Derek’s family had spent the entire meal swapping embarrassing stories (heavily edited, in some cases due to werewolf reasons) with Mr. Stilinski who had a never ending repertoire of humiliating anecdotes about Stiles. (Like the time when Stiles was five and he’d gone to tell the mall Santa what he wanted for Christmas and ended up peeing in his lap because he had been too excited to remember to go to the bathroom, beforehand.)

Okay, so it wasn’t _that_ bad. It had been pretty great, if Derek was being honest.

After brunch and dessert were finished, Stiles reluctantly followed Derek to his room for his bag.

Derek couldn’t help but laugh at the other boy’s martyred expression, though he didn’t exactly want Stiles to leave either. Stiles didn’t appreciate that much and flipped him off to show it.

“So, I guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” Stiles asked, as they walked out to the car where Derek’s family was talking to Stiles’ father through a rolled down window.

“Are you going to ask me that every time?” Derek asked. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him dangerously.

Derek let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, Stiles, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t sound too excited, buddy,” Stiles chuckled, surprising Derek with a hug. “Later, Der-Bear,” he smirked, moving to give the rest of the Pack quick hugs goodbye. “Bye, Mama Hale! Bye, Uncle Sam!” Stiles chirped brightly.

“Stiles, you dick,” Derek muttered after him. Stiles winked at him and hopped into the car. It was like he _knew_.

Derek hunched down, waiting for the onslaught.

“Aww, don’t be such a grumpypants, Der-Bear,” Peter sang, slinging his arm around Derek’s shoulders as the Pack waved goodbye to the Stilinskis.

“Yeah, lighten up, Der-Bear,” Sam teased, appearing at his other side and boxing Derek in.

“I hate you all,” Derek sulked.

“He’s a good one, Derek,” Em said, walking over and pushing her brother (and brother-in-law) off of her son. “I’m glad you met him. He and his father fit well here.” She smiled enigmatically and ushered everyone back inside the house.

-

Stiles was already in his seat when Derek walked into class the following day.

“Ugh. You have no idea how difficult it was to sleep in my shitty-ass bed after sleeping in yours,” Stiles grouchily stated without preamble. “I’ve decided that all future sleepovers will be held at your house.”

“Have you, now,” Derek grinned, instantly cheered by Stiles’ foul mood.

“Yes,” Stiles replied primly. “It would be idiotic of me not to take advantage of having a best friend with a magic bed.”

Derek looked at him, mouth slightly agape.

Stiles seemed to realize what he’d said and flushed. “Not that I’m trying to say I think we’re best friends,” he coughed awkwardly. “I mean, just because we spent all weekend together and we slept in the same bed and like, cuddled and—”

“Stiles.”

“Uhh.” Stiles was no longer making eye contact with Derek. “So did you do the homework? It was just questions 1-12, right? And man, how lame is Mrs. Richards? Who even assigns homework on the weekends, it’s just preposterous and wow, I never realized what a funny word that was. Don’t you think it sounds weird and—”

“Jesus, you’d think I’d have picked a best friend who talked a bit less,” Derek complained, eyes on his desk and ears pink.

Stiles was aware that he was probably smiling a little too widely during the pop quiz his whorrible teacher had handed out after roll call. But then so was Derek.

-

Derek and Stiles could always be found together, at school and at each other’s houses (usually hanging out at Stiles’ after school and on the weekends when Sheriff Stilinski was working, Stiles would sleep over at the Hales’.) Their classmates even stopped giving them strange looks after a while.

John would join the Hales (and Stiles) for Sunday brunch which turned into Thursday night dinners which turned into Arthur inviting John over a few times a month for drinks. The elder Hales would always drink the sheriff under the table and he and Gabe would insist that they were all cheating (John unknowing of just how accurate that statement was.) He and Gabe often teamed up against the Hales since they were always the only ones remotely intoxicated at the end of the night. Rose, the other Pack human, drank like a fish.

On those nights, Derek and Stiles would watch movies or run around outside with the cubs or, more often than not, read in Derek’s room until one of the Hales decided to drive an inebriated John and sometimes Stiles home though most nights Stiles usually opted to stay with Derek (and his glorious bed.) It was a small miracle John never questioned how the designated driver of the night was getting home, since they always took the sheriff home in his own car.

Besides the one day a month when Derek went ‘out of town for a doctor’s appointment,’ Stiles and Derek pretty much lived in each other’s pockets.

Those were Stiles least favorite days. He would sit alone at school all day, bored out of his skull and then head home to commence ‘moping around.’ His father’s choice of words, not his.

But then, then came that glorious Christmas day on which they received the best gift(s) ever.

Arthur and Emma, knowing that Derek and Stiles ~~absolutely loathed~~ weren't too fond of being apart, had gotten them cell phones so that they’d always have a means of communication even when they weren't together.

“Why don’t I get a cell phone?!” Laura shrieked as Stiles tackled Arthur into a hug.

“Thank you, Papa Hale!” he squealed. “You, too, Mama Hale!” he said turning to embrace her.

“Probably because you have no friends,” Derek offered, toying with the settings on his phone. The look Laura gave him promised death, but it was almost worth it.

“I don’t know if we can accept this,” John said hesitantly. “It’s too much.”

“It’s as much for us as it is for Stiles. You have no idea how unbearable my son becomes when he’s separated from yours for any period of time,” Em smirked.

“Mom!” Derek protested, blushing. “Don’t listen to her, she’s lying,” he said to Stiles, shaking his head in denial.

“It’s okay, Derek. We don’t have to hide our love here. This is a safe place,” Stiles said, grinning.

“The only thing I’m hiding is my urge to punch you in the throat,” Derek grumbled, leaving to grab cookies from the kitchen.

 _“Love me!”_ Stiles cried as he ran after Derek and jumped on him from behind, knocking them both to the ground.

“Never!”

Stiles decided that tickling him into submission was the only course of action.

“Get the hell off of me, fuckface!” Derek shouted between helpless giggles.

“Not until you admit you love me, you bastard!”

_“No!”_

“I am not your _whore!”_

“Of course you aren’t,” Derek said exasperatedly. “I don’t recall ever paying you!”

“Smile for the camera, boys,” Peter said loudly, which got them to stop their shenanigans and look up right in time for them to be blinded by the flash of a camera. “Oh, damn,” Peter frowned, looking at the screen on his camera. “I accidentally turned off the ‘special settings.’ Hold on,” he fiddled with the camera.

“Okay, give the camera a smile. I said, ‘smile,’ brats, not stare at me like moronic deer caught in the headlights,” he growled. “Oh, that’ll do,” he finally sighed, when both failed to comply. “No worries. Laura caught the entirety of that marvelous display on video.”

“Goddammit. We have to delete the evidence,” Derek muttered darkly.

Stiles pushed himself up and sprawled out on the floor next to him.

“I don’t know why you’re so ashamed of me,” Stiles said. “Are you that intimidated by my manliness?”

“You always see right through me, don’t you?” Derek smirked.

Stiles chuckled and flung his arm around Derek’s shoulder as they lay on the ground. “Merry Christmas, Derek.”

“Merry Christmas, Stiles,” Derek smiled.

-

First texts between phones (both sent from Derek’s bed after Christmas night)

**From: Capt. Dipshit: Thanks for everything, Der-Bear. Love you, buddy.**

**From: Der-Bear: You too.**

**From: Der-Bear: That.**

**From: Der-Bear: Love you, too.**

-

Stiles finds out about werewolves the summer before seventh grade.

He was staying at the Hales’ for a week while his father was visiting some distant relative on their death bed. Stiles flat-out refused to go without Derek, who couldn’t go because unfortunately the trip was scheduled during one of his ‘doctor’s appointments.’

The plan had been to leave Stiles with Rose and Gabe while the non-human members of the Pack camped in the woods on the night of the full moon.

Of course, that all flies out the window just barely two days into Stiles’ stay at the Hale house.

Stiles stopped breathing when he caught sight of Liam, who’s on the floor ~~wailing~~ howling in his furry beta form. And after the best summer Derek’s ever had, he can almost see his happy little bubble bursting around him.

“Guh,” Stiles sputtered, flailing.

“Stiles—” Derek began, stepping forward and faltering to a stop, not quite sure what to say, what to do.

Laura was stepping in, taking Liam and quietly saying something to Stiles but all Derek caught was ‘werewolf’ before the house is suddenly, obviously empty. Derek could hear the Pack running silently through the woods. Giving them privacy.

“Your nephew is a _werewolf_?” Stiles shouted. “And you didn’t tell me? I thought we were best friends, Derek.” Stiles was vibrating with anger and other things. Derek could know if he dared to try and scent it out but he didn’t, afraid of what he might find.

“Wait— Are _you_ a werewolf, too? You are, aren’t you! Ohmigod, that actually makes so much sense. All the growling and the ‘doctor’s appointments,’” he said, making air quotes.

And Derek wanted to deny it, he did, but Stiles wasn’t dumb and Derek wasn’t going to lie to him. Not anymore.

Not even if it meant that he was about to lose his best friend.

“Stiles,” Derek started again, trailed off, at a loss for words.

It’s okay because Stiles isn’t finished ranting about ‘you obviously don’t trust me’ and ‘how the fuck could you do this to me’ and ‘why didn’t you _tell_ me?’

All Derek really heard was the anger.

“I understand,” Derek said quietly, looking at the ground.

“Understand, what?” Stiles cried, exasperated.

“That you don’t want anything to do with me. I get it, I mean, why would you want to stick around, right?” he laughed. It sounded strange, even to his own ears. “It isn’t _natural_ , right?” he continued, ignoring the slightly hysterical note that had crept into his voice. “You should’ve listened to that Matt kid when you had the chance. I really am a freak.” Derek was not going to cry. He forced himself to look his soon-to-be former best friend in the eye.

And Stiles—

Stiles was looking at him strangely but not with the hatred and disgust that Derek was ~~afraid of~~ expecting. He made a small noise in the back of his throat and rushed forward.

Derek flinched, thinking that Stiles was going to attack him and make a run for it, and prepared himself for the first blow. It wouldn’t cause him much pain, not in the way that Stiles would mean for it to but it would hurt him all the same.

So, when Stiles threw his arms around Derek in a fierce hug, it was all that Derek could do to stay standing.

“Don’t cry, Derek, ohmigod, no,” Stiles babbled frantically. “I’m sorry I made you think that I was gonna ditch you, but seriously, you should know by now that I’m never gonna leave you. You’re my best friend, dude.” Stiles pulled back to give him a smile. Derek was hiding his face, embarrassed as fuck that he’d actually started crying.

For Stiles. He must be in-fucking-sane.

“C’mon, Der-Bear. Give me a smile,” Stiles coaxed. “I promise I won’t take you back to the pet store. I think I missed the deadline for returns, anyways. Plus, I already named you! If I took you back, how could I be sure you’d get to keep your badass name?” Derek huffed a laugh.

“I couldn’t, that’s how. I- Jesus Christ. I just realized the irony of the whole pet name/puppy thing. ‘Cause you’re a wolf. Aha. Ahaha. God, I’m gonna have such a good time with this. You should probably prepare yourself for the dog jokes,” Stiles advised seriously. Derek wiped his face on Stiles’ shirt and poked him in the ribs.

“Ow!” Stiles cried, rubbing his hand over his side.

“Don’t be a bitch, it didn’t hurt _that_ bad,” Derek said exasperatedly.

“Not all of us are werewolves, Derek. Some of us are puny, fragile humans.”

“Your words, not mine,” Derek chuckled.

“Shut up, dick,” Stiles replied fondly.

“Ass,” Derek snorted, equally fond.

The Pack came back not long after that.

“You should’ve seen your father,” Gabby snickered. “He was freaking the fuck out not knowing if he should be more worried about you or Stiles.”

“Shut up, Gabe, I was not!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, Artie. You might be a werewolf now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still kick your ass.”

“Wait, what do you mean, _now_?” Stiles asked, eyes blazing with curiosity.

“C’mon,” Derek said, jerking his head in the direction of his room. “You can ask me anything you want.”

“And you’ll tell me the truth?”

“Of course,” Derek grumbled, miffed.

“And if he doesn’t, we’ll be sure to let you know,” Peter added with a sly smile.

Stiles peppered Derek with a litany of questions, ranging from the perks of being a werewolf to his strength, his longevity.

“Will you live forever?”

“God, I really hope not,” Derek sighed, frowning.

Stiles stares.

“Kidding, Stiles. We more or less have a normal life span… In the instances we don’t die bloody, awful deaths,” Derek teased.

“What about Pack dynamics?” Stiles asked, switching topics with the course of his thoughts.

Derek lifted his eyebrows. “Such as?”

“Is there a system like, Alpha, Beta, Omega…”

“Well, yes, we are wolves after all,” Derek rolled his eyes.

“So, who’s the Alpha?”

“Who do _you_ think is the Alpha?”

Stiles thought about it. “Your mom, right?”

Derek rewarded him with a crooked smile. “How d’you figure?”

“Well, you all gravitate around her. She’s not always front and center, but everyone seems to defer to her.”

“Including my father,” Derek snickered.

“Especially your father,” Stiles agreed with a laugh.

“I heard that, you brats!” Arthur yelled from the living room.

“Fuck!” Stiles gaped. “Your hearing’s that good?”

“Yup,” Derek replied smugly.

“Well, that’s invasive,” Stiles noted.

“Not really,” Derek disagreed. “It doesn’t really work like that. We have to focus, to _want_ to be able to hear farther than normal. Although, our base hearing might still be a bit better than a human’s,” he admitted. “Also, they’re only listening because they’re nosy fucks.”

“Nonsense, dear nephew,” Peter said, appearing in the doorway. “We did promise Stiles that we wouldn’t let you lie to him.”

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Stiles cursed. “You scared the hell out of me!”

Peter chuckled evilly and creeped back out.

“So you’ve told me about your super-strength and your super-hearing and you obviously have the super-creeping thing working out for you… What about smell?”

“Same principle as the hearing, I guess,” Derek shrugged.

“Sight?”

“We see as well at night as we do during the day. But other than that, same thing.”

“Okay, so you’re basically human, but.. better,” Stiles said slowly.

“Well, we do go furry and have a penchant for anger issues,” Derek joked. “And then there’s the occasional psychopath that comes around wanting to kill us all.”

Stiles chuckled, obviously believing that Derek was kidding. Derek didn’t have the heart to dash the assumption.

“Wait, are you actually related to any of your ‘family members’ or is it a Pack thing?”

“They’re my family.”

“You know what I meant, Derek.”

“I know,” Derek spoke slowly, as if to a child, “And I’m answering your question. They’re my family. By blood or by marriage.”

“But— ?” Stiles began, confused.

“Peter is my mother’s younger brother; obviously Rose is married to him. Sam is my father’s younger brother and Gabe is married to him. Though he’d probably still be Pack even if he hadn’t gotten married to Sam. He’s been my dad’s best friend since childhood,” Derek added thoughtfully.

“Do you have to be related to be Pack?”

“Course not. What we have here isn’t exactly common.”

“Can humans be part of your Pack?”

“Duh. Rose and Gabe are also human.”

“Ohhh,” Stiles said, contemplating. And then “Could— Can I be part of your Pack?”

“Stiles, you’ve been Pack for a long time,” Derek answered, quirking an eyebrow.

Stiles positively _beamed_ at that. Which made Derek smile, of course.

“What about my dad?”

“He’s Pack, too,” Derek hedged, smile fading.

“But?” Stiles asked, noticing Derek’s sudden discomfort.

“But, Stiles, I don’t think we should tell him,” Derek admitted. “Yet,” he added.

“Why not? I’m not disagreeing, just, why?”

“There are people, _humans_ , that hunt us. The less your father knows, the better.”

“What am I, chopped liver? What about Stiles’ safety?” Stiles whined.

Derek snorted in amusement. _“Stiles_ is with a Pack of werewolves about ninety-nine percent of the time where as his _father_ is only with the Pack about thirty percent of the time. We can protect you. It’s a bit more difficult with your dad.”

 Stiles dipped his head. “I see your point,” he sighed. “But I don’t like it, not telling my dad. It’s – I don’t like lying to him.”

“I know,” Derek said, slinging an arm around Stiles’ neck. “Don’t worry about it right now, we’ll tell him.”

They both ignored the unspoken _‘Eventually.’_

“Time for bed!” Em called up the stairs.

Arthur came wandering into Derek’s room after they were dressed in pajamas and lying down, and flounced on the bed.

“Papa Hale?” Stiles addressed him.

“Yeah, kid?” Arthur returned, smiling brightly.

“What’s it like having your best friend married to your brother?”

Stiles could see the light in Arthur’s eyes dying out before he even got past ‘married to’ but the little voice in the back of his head screaming _‘Abort, abort! Evacuate!’_ hadn’t been enough to stop him.

“It’s like,” Arthur paused, searching for the right words. “It’s like, having your soul, ripped out of your _ass_. It’s just fucking lovely, isn’t it? I mea— not only do I get to constantly hear about my _supposed_ best friend’s sex life but I have to hear about him banging my _little brother.”_

“Or me banging him!” Sam yelled from his and Gabe’s room.

“Fuck you, Sammy!” Arthur screeched in return. “You see? You see what I have to deal with? And ugh it’s like they love walking around _reeking_ of sex and then all the noise—”

“We get the picture, Dad,” Derek groaned, patting his haunted looking father’s shoulder.

“Never tell your lovesick brother that your best friend’s in love with him, Stiles,” Arthur advised him gravely.

“I haven’t got a brother,” Stiles responded.

“Don’t do it,” Arthur whispered. “You’ll regret it to the end of your days.”

Stiles giggled while Derek said, “Okay, dad, Stiles has had enough dramatics for one day.”

“There’s no such thing as too much drama,” Stiles disagreed.

“You don’t want to say that in front of Arthur, sweetheart,” Em warned, apparating out of fucking nowhere, Stiles would like to add. “That way madness lies,” she smirked, leaning over and giving each of the boys a kiss on the forehead before picking her husband off their bed and slinging him over her shoulder.

“Ooh, I love it when you manhandle me,” Arthur smirked. “Night, pups.”

“Dear God, my family is weird as fuck,” Derek muttered. “That’s not just me, right?”

“I dunno, they seem pretty average to me,” Stiles replied sarcastically. He smacked Derek on the shoulder. “You’re fucking _werewolves_. Do you even know what normal means?”

“Unnecessary harshness,” Derek mumbled into his pillow, very suddenly tired from his emotionally exerting day.

“Derek?”

“Hmm,” he grunted.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “I just wasn’t sure that you’d react well. AndIdidn’twanttolosemybestfriend,” he muttered quickly.

Stiles grinned. “It’s sweet that you think you’d get rid of me that easily, Der-Bear, really.”

“Fuck off, Stiles.”

“You love me, just admit it!”

“If I tell you, will you go the fuck to sleep?” Derek groaned.

“Yes,” Stiles promised instantly.

“Love you, Stiles. Goodnight,” Derek said sarcastically.

“Love you, too, sweetie,” Stiles chuckled.

“Ooooh!” Sam and Peter chorused from opposite ends of the house.

“Grow the fuck up, you two,” Em yelled. “I was already asleep, you bastards.”

“Sorry,” Peter called apologetically.

“Yeah, Sorry, Em,” Sam replied, sounding sheepish.

Derek and Stiles snickered to themselves, repeated their goodnights and tried to find sleep.

Derek didn’t mind sharing a bed with Stiles, in fact it was downright comfortable. And if in the morning, they always ended up closer than they’d started, well, Derek wasn’t going to be the one to point it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log: December 3rd, 1:14 A.M. I just got back from a glorious night on the town with my bffl Cheese (We went to go see ‘Rise of the Guardians’ and we loooved it) to discover that someone has removed their bookmark from my fic. I am so sad rn. What did we do? Dime por que? I tried to apologize for the excessive fluff beforehand to warn you :c Omg I don’t think I can do this anymore. On a better note, I then saw my messages and it cheered me right the fuck up :D
> 
> Captain’s Log: Dec 3rd, 1:43 A.M. Sad again about the remover of the bookmark. Where did our love go
> 
> Captain’s Log: Dec 3rd, Ass O’Clock A.M. Looking at other people’s fics that are newer and already have more hits/kudos than mine and feeling utterly inadequate
> 
> Captain’s Log: Dec 3rd, 7:38 A.M. Then again, going back and finding typos in said fics makes me feel better, in a petty kind of way. (I know, I’m a fucking doucher.)
> 
> Captain’s Log: Dec 3rd, 9:52 A.M. I FIGURED OUT THE REMOVER OF THE BOOKMARKS IDENTITY  
> Blarrhghhgh
> 
> Captain’s Log: Dec 3rd, 2:47 A.M. BFF #66 is having her weekly midlife crisis. It’s her fault this isn’t up sooner.


	4. Tell Me If You Need a Loving Hand to Help You Fall Asleep Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idek bare with me. I'll be posting more later. ha haha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'Cold Coffee' by Ed Sheeran
> 
> I offer you a brief filler chapter that I have literally just drafted because of reasons while I get the next two (maybe even three) chapters I’ll be posting today and tomorrow ready.
> 
> Did I say next chapter they would be old enough to do sex things? I meant next, next chapter. Word must’ve taken out the extra next. 
> 
> She’s a cunt like that. She likes fucking with my life. Damn you, Word.
> 
> I've come to the conclusion that I don't do angst well, so sadly, this isn't the angst-riddled fic it ought to be.
> 
> As always, let me know if you find any errors! I'll be checking a little later.
> 
> Update: I'm going to be adding the chapters tomorrow.. I found an okay place to stop but I feel it's still a bit too rough so I'm just gonna work on it in the AM and post it when It's ready. I'll be posting (at least) 2 chapters. There will be bonus smut for your patience. It's a Christmas miracle

After the whole, ‘whoops, I’m a werewolf’ incident, Derek had taken to running to Stiles’ house and climbing through his window whenever he couldn’t sleep. And Derek had trouble sleeping often. Especially given the fact that his room was a short ways away from Gabe and Sam’s room and they spent every single motherfucking night going at it like ~~dogs in heat~~ rabbits. So, most nights, Stiles and Derek slept in the same bed. No big. It wasn’t weird.

It _wasn’t_.

Whatever. Stiles didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, the first time (and every time after) Stiles had grinned at him and made room under the covers, wide awake and relieved at Derek’s sudden appearance.

Derek would go home (usually after the sheriff woke since obviously he couldn’t know that Derek frequently climbed through his son’s bedroom window to get a good night’s sleep) to face the knowing smirks of his smug-faced Pack.

Bunch of assholes.

Stiles never ran out of questions about Derek’s ‘furry problem’ as he liked to call it. They spent their days (and nights) talking endlessly about werewolves, about books, about anything really, while watching movies or running through the woods behind Derek’s house or throwing a ball around Stiles’ backyard.

At one point, Stiles had thought it pertinent to see if Derek would fetch said ball. Derek had tackled him to the ground and put him into a headlock until Stiles’ submitted.

“Cheater!” Stiles had crowed after an extremely self-satisfied Derek relinquished his grip. “You can’t use your super werewolf-strength on puny humans!”

Derek snorted derisively. “Even if I wasn’t a wolf, I’d be able to kick your ass, Stiles,” he’d countered confidently.

“Dirty liar,” Stiles grumbled, kicking Derek in the shin and taking off, squealing in delight as Derek chased him around the yard, eyes glowing.

Life was so much better now that Stiles knew.

So, of course (because life really was a bitch) as soon as Derek was almost completely comfortable with Stiles’ casual references to werewolves and his family’s frequent wolfish displays, something had to go wrong.

-

Stiles was acting strange. He was being distant and moody and it was freaking Derek the fuck out. Derek wasn’t being clingy, okay. Something was clearly going on.

He was pretty sure that it might be the werewolf thing.

Maybe Stiles had decided it was too weird, that he really couldn’t cope with his ~~only~~ closest friend not being human. Maybe he was acting withdrawn because he was just trying to figure out how to tell Derek that he didn’t want to be Pack, didn’t want to be his friend. And Derek could handle that.

He could.

Derek spent the first week of July tensing every time Stiles opened his mouth, obviously wanting to say whatever it was that was bothering him before deciding against it, opting to pick a random topic instead.

Derek was starting to get worried. Especially once he realized that whatever was bothering Stiles, was bothering Mr. Stilinski as well.

The sheriff was better at hiding it, sure, but all of his smiles were tired and sad. Maybe Stiles had told his father and they were trying to figure out a way to get away from Derek and his family without any trouble? The Pack would give the Stilinskis their out if they wanted it though, they probably didn’t realize it.

It was nearly an entire week of tense conversations and tight smiles before Derek finally found out what was wrong.

Derek came in through Stiles’ window as per usual (Gabe and Sam were being particularly loud that night) shucked off his pants and climbed into bed with Stiles.

Derek still went to Stiles’ whenever he couldn’t sleep ~~because he was a masochist and he had gotten used to falling asleep with Stiles~~ even though things were off. Stiles hadn’t asked him to stop so he hadn’t, though he knew he probably should have.

He knew the other boy was up because Stiles was breathing all wrong for sleep (which: totally not creepy, knowing Stiles’ breathing patterns. Derek couldn’t help it if he noticed these things, okay! _Werewolf!)_ Stiles’ heartbeat was growing quicker by the second, his breathing hitched. Fuck, Derek had probably woken him up.

“Hey, dude. Sorry if I woke you,” Derek apologized quietly. “Sam and Gabby were grossing me out,” Derek gave a shudder.

It wasn’t until Stiles made this strangled noise that was probably _meant_ to be a chuckle that Derek realized he was crying.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, suddenly filled with dread. “Stiles, what’s wrong?” He reached his hand out to lay it on his friend’s shoulder, stopping just shy, not sure if it would help.

“N-noth—” Stiles tried before taking a shuddering, steadying breath. “So-sorry. I’m oka—” Stiles broke off with a sob.

Derek grabbed his shoulder and turned Stiles over to face him. He was pale and shaking, eyes streaming and nose leaking snot.

Derek unwittingly made a distressed sound in the back of his throat, eyes pricking in response.

This was probably it then. Stiles was going to tell Derek to fuck off now. At least he wasn’t taking any pleasure from this. At least he seemed to be just as broken up about it as Derek was. At least—

Stiles sobbed and flung himself forward, wrapping himself around Derek octopus style.

Derek froze, momentarily stunned, before moving to wrap his arms around Stiles in return. He rubbed Stiles’ back in small, soothing circles just like Arthur or Em did when he was younger, hurting and inconsolable, murmuring words of nonsensical comfort.

And then Stiles was speaking into Derek’s neck, between racking sobs and halted breaths.

“—my fault. She shouldn’t— she wouldn’t have gone if— It was _my_ _fault._ ” He stopped, unable to force any more garbled sentences out.

Shit. Derek’s arms tightened around Stiles, everything suddenly clicking into place. “I’m so sorry, Stiles. What can I— What should I do?” He felt pathetic, disgusted that he hadn’t put two and two together sooner.

_“Hasn’t talked much since his mother… Well.”_

God, and he’d been too busy being self-absorbed to realize.

Derek kept his arms around Stiles as his tears gradually subsided.

“It was a car accident,” Stiles mumbled what seemed like hours later. “She left work because I was at home sick and I called her whining that I wanted her to make me soup and she just said, ‘of course, honey, I’ll be there soon.’” His voice was thicker when he started speaking again.

“And then this car came out of nowhere and hit her and it was all my fault because she _had_ to come home,” his voice thick with self-hatred, “and I _had_ to have my _mom_ make it for me even though my dad was off work because he couldn’t make my soup like she could and she would still be alive if I hadn’t been such a—”

“Hey,” Derek stopped Stiles, pulling back to look him in the eye. “It wasn’t your fault.” Stiles shook his head, refusing to believe that.

“It _wasn’t,”_ Derek insisted.

Stiles stopped meeting his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault, Stiles,” Derek said gently. “You couldn’t have known.” He drew Stiles close again, his wolf knowing instinctively that this was a Packmate in need of comfort. “Please, Stiles. You have to see that. You don’t need to carry this guilt around. She wouldn’t want that.”

Stiles eyes filled up again and he sagged against Derek.

“I thought— I thought maybe she would get better,” Stiles said some time later. “She was in a coma, held on ‘til July. I was there every day, slept at the hospital the whole time. My dad had finally convinced me to go home, saying he would stay with her that night. He came home close to dawn and I _knew,”_ his voice cracked.

Derek held him closer still.

“The funeral was.. rough. We don’t really have much family, none that we’re close to anyway, but a lot of people knew my dad because he was the sheriff and everyone loved my mom because she taught their kids and she was so unbelievably freaking _amazing,”_ Derek heard rather than saw the smile in his voice.

“So, there were a lot of people there and everyone was saying how sorry they were. And I thought that was the end of it but anywhere I went people would be staring at me with their pity and compassion and it made me feel sick and angry,” Stiles said, voice tight. “I was so _relieved_ when my dad told me about the job that opened up here. I don’t think either of us were doing too well staying in that house. It was hard waking up every morning thinking she’d be there and seeing she wasn’t.

“I was still afraid of leaving, though, y’know? Even though I didn’t really have any friends there,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

“You don’t say,” Derek said wryly, noting the change in tone.

“Not everyone can handle all this spastic as well as you can, big guy,” Stiles chuckled, banging Derek’s shoulder with his head.

“It’s a gift,” Derek snorted, relieved that Stiles was okay enough to be cracking jokes. “Or a curse,” he added, thoughtful. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Stiles made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Dick.”

“Ass,” Derek was aware of the intense fondness that saturated the word.

“Thanks, Derek,” Stiles said quietly after another long silence.

Derek didn’t respond, simply patted his back comfortingly. It didn’t taken them long to drop off, both at ease in each others’ familiar presence.

-

John got out of bed— he hadn’t slept a wink the entire night— to check on Stiles only to find him and Derek curled up together, dried tears obvious on Stiles’ slack face in the dim morning light. He leaned heavily against the doorway.

Stiles’ had been hollow after his mother’s death. It scared the crap out of John to see his boy, who had always been so _alive,_ — irritatingly so, even— so empty.

And then he’d met Derek Hale and suddenly everything was laughter and rainbows and unicorns—

He chuckled to himself, suddenly finding his worn-out train of thought hilarious.

Derek stirred, eyes gleaming unnaturally as he woke.

Must’ve caught the light.

“John?” Derek said worriedly. “Is everything okay?” He bolted upright as a thought struck him, “Oh, uh, Stiles let me in, I was worried so I had my parents drop me,” he ~~explained~~ lied, (poorly in John’s opinion, though he had no idea about what). “Sorry, I’ll head home,” Derek mumbled, gently pushing Stiles to the other side of the bed and reaching for his jeans on the floor.

John waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s five o’clock in the morning. Back to bed with you.”

“If you insist,” Derek sighed and settled back under the covers. “Night, John.”

“Thanks for staying with him tonight, son.”

“Of course,” the sleepy response followed John down to the kitchen.

John sat in the kitchen, an untouched cup of coffee in his hands as he stared blankly at the table, listening to the unseasonable rain that was tapping at the windows. A few hours later a work alarm he’d forgotten to turn off sounded, waking him from his stupor.

Stiles was sitting on his bed, Derek long gone. They stared at each other for a while, grief visible on every facet of them before John offered him a poor approximation of a smile and said, “Breakfast?” already knowing what Stiles would want.

Stiles smiled a little in response. “Pancakes and pop eggs and cold coffee?”

“What else?” his father agreed.

It had been Stiles’ mother’s favorite.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log: Dec 13th, 10:58 A.M. Outlook on life not so bright at the mo’. Just spilled my coffee. Granted, it was my fourth cup of the day but still.
> 
> Side note: I wanted to include Stiles’ mom’s death because it’s important. Maybe not to this fic or even to the show, but I thought it important to Stiles’ and his character none the less. My apologies!
> 
> Also, cold coffee because I was listening to 'Cold Coffee' by Ed Sheeran. Ugh. It's just perf. 
> 
> ~~Chapter title from 'Signs' by Bloc Party. One of my absolute favorites. I thought it (somewhat) fitting~~
> 
> Title WAS ‘I see signs now all the time that you’re not dead you’re sleeping,’ butttt someone pointed out to me that this line from ‘Cold Coffee’ (which I’ve already mentioned because it’s fucking beautiful) works much better. I’ll admit that I’ve been in love with Bloc Party’s ‘Signs’ for years and I was just looking for any excuse to use it ;-; SOOOO muchos gracias to user: toomanyships! I love you, man. Thanks for helping me out lol I’ll just have to kill someone off and use that line from ‘Signs’ then. Muahahaha
> 
> Kidding. Ha haha uhhh but yes, you should listen to ‘Signs’ if you’re into Bloc Party. Or even if you’re not. :)


	5. Lend Me Your Eyes I Can Change What You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cause this is filler, filler night!
> 
> Michael Jackson popped up on my iTunes, shhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'Awake My Soul' by Mumford & Sons.
> 
> Thank you to the lovely, Daecyan Shikoba, for all of the marvelous music. I listened to your suggestions while writing part of this so it is safe to say you have inspired me :) if anyone wants to share some music with me like your favorites or any awesome new music (I listen to literally everything, genre doesn’t matter) I would LOVE suggestions
> 
> Also, Dae has gifted me a fic! And it is MAGNIFICENT. Check it out: [How Do I Live Without the Ones I Love?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/589588)
> 
> Mistakes! Let me know if you see them! I'll check later :)

Middle school was pretty incredible in Stiles’ humble opinion. He had managed to harass the front office lady into making sure he and Derek had a matching schedule. It wasn’t too hard since they were both in advanced placement. All that had really needed to be changed was their electives.

In summary, he got to spend the entire school day with his best buddy, go home and spend the rest of the day with his best buddy, and most nights his best buddy would sneak in through the window to catch some z’s so he got to spend all night with his best buddy (Stiles totally counted it even if they were just sleeping,) and _then_ spend all weekend with his best buddy and his new extended family. It was great!

Laura, whom he adored and had adopted as his official big sister, had attended high school opting to test out of sophomore and junior year, starting her senior year at sixteen and graduating just after she turned seventeen. Arthur and Em had been so proud. Especially Arthur. He had snapped hundreds of pictures during the ceremony, pausing only to snarl at anyone who dared breathe too loudly while his baby was graduating.

After graduation, Laura began taking classes at a college an hour outside of town. She had eventually mellowed out with the teasing of Derek and had even stopped attacking him as much. They only engaged in bloody battle about twice a week now. Stiles had a running bet on who’d come out as victor, playing bookie for the entire Pack.

Derek still got his ass handed to him most times, but was winning more and more frequently— once every twenty or so fights— probably due to the gained muscle mass and height.

By the end of the summer preceding their first year of high school, Derek had about half a foot on Stiles.

It wasn’t _fair._

“Why do you get to get taller and I don’t?” Stiles whined from where he was sprawled across the bed, Derek sitting beside him, looking on in amusement over the book he was reading.

“Probably has something to do with genetics,” Derek said offhandedly.

“You’re fucking face probably has something to do with genetics,” Stiles grumbled petulantly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Arthur called from somewhere downstairs.

“Yes, our Der-Bear does have a lovely face, don’t you think, Stiles?” Sam appeared besides their bed.

“Quite,” Stiles agreed, mimicking the pompous tone Sam had affected.

Gabe walked into the room after him, smacking his husband’s ass as he passed. “Don’t worry, kid,” he told Stiles. “The Hales’ have great genetics. Look at Em.”

“Why are you saying that as if that affects _me_ somehow? And wait, what does that even matter, isn’t Em a Hale by marriage?”

“Uhh, no,” Sam hedged, looking to Derek.

“Mom’s the Alpha. Dad took her last name,” Derek explained with a shrug.

Of course she had. Em had probably proposed to Arthur, too. Or done a mating dance or whatever wolves did to attract their mates.

Derek laughed, “Mating dance? Really, Stiles.”

“Ugh. Not my fault. Brain filter’s taking a break,” Stiles said, not even caring. It happened so often, he barely even reacted when the Hales responded to his thoughts anymore.

 _“I_ proposed, thank you very much,” Arthur interjected primly, joining the growing party in Derek’s room.

“I’m sure you did,” Stiles said wryly. “But no seriously, what does your guys’ fantastic genetics have to do with me?”

Sam and Gabe exchanged a look while Arthur simply chuckled. Stiles looked to Derek but he seemed just as confused as him.

“Nothing to worry about right now,” Em answered firmly with a smirk, appearing next to Arthur. “Come, children, dinner will get cold.” She hopped on Arthur’s back and he ran out of the room, carrying her laughingly down the stairs. Sam followed suit, scooping up an amused Gabe and running downstairs.

“Don’t even think about it,” Derek said as Stiles opened his mouth, not bothering to look up from his book. “I am _not_ carrying you downstairs. Your legs aren’t damaged and you’ll walk if you want to keep them that way,” he said offering Stiles a menacing smile.

“Touchy, touchy,” Stiles muttered, heaving himself off the bed and making his way down to dinner.

Dinner was always a noisy affair. Em had cooked because Rose was in the last few weeks of yet another pregnancy (this would be her and Peter’s fourth child) and was supposed to stay off her feet.

“You’re looking lovely as ever, Rose,” Stiles grinned mischievously at her where she was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on her husband’s lap and book balanced on her swollen belly.

Peter growled at him, eyes flashing. Rose laughed, knowing what Stiles was doing.

Apparently, werewolves were highly proprietary of their pregnant mates. Peter was prone to flying off the handle at the slightest provocation, at times viewing even _breathing_ in Rose’s general direction as a threat. Stiles had discovered this during Rose’s last pregnancy and had cheerfully taken advantage of it every opportunity he was afforded.

“Peter,” Em warned, struggling to keep from smiling.

“It’s not me, it’s the brat!” Peter whined in protest.

“I was just paying her a compliment,” Stiles said virtuously. “She has a certain glow about her, wouldn’t you say?”

Peter snapped his teeth at him. “Peter,” Rose said exasperatedly. “Enough.”

“But—”

“No.”

Peter glared at Derek. “This is your fault, brat,” he groused. “You had to befriend the _one_ human without the good sense to be frightened of werewolves.”

“Hey, I _tried_ to get rid of him, okay? He won’t _leave,”_ Derek griped.

Stiles leered. “Suuure, you did, _Der-Bear,”_ he drawled. “That’s why every time I leave, you run to my house and crawl through my window for a good cuddl—” Derek covered Stiles’ mouth with his hand in a futile attempt to get the boy to _stop talking,_ but alas, Stiles licked his hand in retaliation, causing Derek to recoil and release his grip. “CUDDLE!” Stiles cried, using his hands and feet to defend himself as Derek attempted to smother him with a couch cushion. “DEREK HALE IS A CUDDLE MONSTER! DEREK LOVES CUDDLING!” he crowed at the top of his lungs.

Derek gave up with a groan, fleeing to his room blushing furiously as the Pack laughed hysterically.

Stiles followed him smiling smugly but trying to be discreet about it. “I apologize for revealing your dirty secret to your entire family,” he said repentantly. “I’m sure that before now none of them knew that you snuck to my house nearly every night to cu—” he cut off at the filthy look Derek gave him, _“Sleep_ because Gabe and Sam are totally flamboyant in their love and it’s traumatizing to hear your uncles going at it _every single night_ and then have to get up every morning unable to look them in the eye because of all the dirty, hot old man sex—”

“I get it, Stiles, Jesus,” Derek groaned.

Stiles laughed, “Buck up, champ, we’ve got school tomorrow!”

“Ugh, don’t _remind_ me. I don’t even want to _think_ about it—”

Sam was dragged in to the room by an extremely disgruntled Gabe. “I am thirty-three, you little shits.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles said, affecting an air of innocence.

“He’s probably talking about the ‘old man sex’ comment,” Sam said helpfully, wrapping his arms around his miffed husband’s waist from behind. “I’m kind of, offended as well. I’m only twenty-nine.”

“Whoa,” Stiles grinned at Gabe. “Good going, Gabby! Cradle robbing your best friend’s little brother, I mean,” he clarified.

“Could we maybe not talk about this?” Arthur called. “Ever, if possible?”

“Or we could talk about it in graphic detail,” Gabe offered evilly.

Derek could hear Arthur weeping below. It would be funny if it wasn’t so relevant. “Please don’t. For the sake of my dinner. You see, I’d rather like to keep it,” Derek said.

“Stiles, honey, John’s here to take you home!” Em shouted up the stairs. Gabe perked up and dragged Sam back down the stairs to greet the sheriff. (Gabe and John were bros.)

“Boo,” Stiles mumbled. “Ugh. Yeah! Coming!” He turned back to Derek, “I’ll see you in the morning, Der-B—”

“Finish that and I will ssskiiiin you,” Derek hissed furiously.

“Touchy,” Stiles repeated, smirking. He gave Derek a hug _(“No, Derek. They’re not hugs. They’re ‘bro hugs.’ Totally different.”)_ and walked out. “See you tomorrow, _Der-Bear!”_ he shouted, making a mad dash for his father and the front door. “Let’s go, Dad, Derek’s gonna kill me.”

-

Stiles was having a mini-meltdown.

He was freaking out because he and Derek had exactly _three classes together_. Out of _seven._ That wasn’t anywhere near okay.

It looked as though the high school front office lady was in cahoots with the middle school front office lady with how she seemed to be expecting him when he turned up to harass her into changing his schedule to match Derek’s.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stilinski. There’s nothing I can do,” she answered, not even bothering to look up after Stiles’ long and rambling plea.

“Wh— B— You—” Stiles sputtered, indignant.

“Stiles. It’s okay,” Derek tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the front desk and walking to class.

“It’s _not_ okay,” Stiles answered with all the dramatics of John Watson.

“We have three classes and lunch together. You’ll survive, I’m sure. Might even make a friend or two this year,” Derek smirked. He was as disappointed as Stiles was that they didn’t have all their classes together. That didn’t mean he had to show it. Better to take this opportunity to make fun of Stiles. Yes, good. Derek rather liked this plan.

“A _friend?”_ Stiles repeated skeptically. “Why would I need another friend, I already have you.”

It was one of those things Stiles said so casually, barely noticing, that threw Derek off so completely. Derek froze, ears burning, opening his mouth to offer _something_ as a token of reciprocity and—

“How sweet,” said a small red-headed girl who had apparently been behind them, smirking as she passed by.

Stiles stared after her, mouth agape and cheeks flushing. “I retract the previous statement. I could definitely be friends with her,” he said.

Derek laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Stiles.”

-

Stiles dashed to where he and Derek had agreed to meet for lunch. “I’m in love, Derek. I’m in love with a terrifyingly smart, strawberry blonde midget-angel and I don’t care who knows it.”

Derek snickered. “Midget-angel, huh. How eloquently put,” he snarked. “Do you even know her name?”

“Her name is Lydia Martin, she’s in all honors, she is a mathematical genius, she knows Latin, for chrissakes,” Stiles groaned.

“In other words, she’s out of your league,” Derek summed up for him.

“So out of my league,” Stiles agreed, sighing forlornly.

-

Stiles was still preoccupied with wooing Lydia an entire year later. He even had a 10 year plan. With a Power Point.

It was starting to drive Derek up the frigging wall.

Not Stiles liking Lydia. That didn’t bother Derek, not at all. Stiles _talking_ about Lydia twenty-four/seven bothered Derek.

Derek knew things about Lydia he didn’t care to know. He knew her class schedule, what she ate for lunch every day, what clothes she was wearing, what her favorite perfume was, he knew each and every single time she had acknowledged Stiles presence in vivid detail.

Derek was a good friend, though, so he didn’t say anything. Well, okay. Yes, he did. Not his fault, he couldn’t resist! Stiles was so easy. At least he didn’t tell Stiles to, _‘shut the fuck up about Lydia already, goddammit!’_ like he’d been tempted to _innumerable_ times during the last year. He’d rather have Stiles talking to him about this than going to someone else. Like Laura.

He shuddered at the thought. Laura would do more damage than good.

No, it was best if Stiles continued plaguing Derek with this Lydia nonsense.

-

Stiles took an unexpected vacation— two months at the family home in the mountains with Great Aunt Meredith, wheee!— with John the summer following sophomore year.

Stiles hadn’t taken the news well, sulking for an entire week when his father informed him that it would be a ‘strictly Stilinski excursion’ and ‘no, Stiles, honorary Stilinski doesn’t count.’

He had been working up to a full-on hissy fit until John had threatened to make him leave his phone.

His father smoothed over the dispute by taking Stiles to get his license before they left and buying him an old, piece of crap jeep.

Derek spent the two month break, moping around, talking to Stiles on the phone and working out. He had a lot of restless energy, even though he was constantly tired. It seemed he’d gotten a little _too_ used to sleeping with Stiles.

Stiles came home a full week before school started up again. He drove over to Derek’s as soon as he and his father got into town.

It was four in the morning so he used his key (which he’d had made in seventh grade) to get into the Hale house, ran up the stairs and jumped on a sleeping Derek.

Which, not the best plan, because Derek hadn’t been expecting him for another few days and Stiles smelled a little different and was heavier than Derek remembered and just _bigger_.

Derek shifted and nearly gouged Stiles’ eyes out.

“Holy shit!” Stiles laughed delightedly. “I know I should be terrified or something but I just had the most boring summer in the history of the universe and I’m kind of just relieved that I wasn’t hallucinating all the wolf stuff. Thank God!”

Derek threw his arms around Stiles in an unusual display of affection. “Don’t leave me ever again. Sam and Gabby got worse. I’ve barely slept.”

“There, there, Der-Bear. I’m here, now. Sleep, my child,” Stiles said, petting Derek’s face.

“You haven’t been back for five minutes and you’ve already started being creepy,” Derek sighed.

“Would you want me any other way?” Stiles asked seriously.

Derek chuckled and leaned back to get a look. Stiles looked different.

His face had gotten thinner, and he had dark circles under his eyes like, maybe he’d had trouble sleeping, too. He’d let his hair grow out for the first time since Derek had known him. It didn’t look... bad.

Stiles was looking, too. “Jesus Christ, here I was excited that I finally had a growth spurt and you’re over here with all your big, new muscles,” he complained.

“Growth spurt?”

“Yeah, look,” Stiles pulled him up so that they could stand toe to toe.

“Fuck, you’re taller than me,” Derek frowned. “That’s it, I changed my mind. Go away.” He flopped back onto his bed in a fit of pique.

“Aww, don’t worry, it’s only by, like, an inch or three,” Stiles chirped gleefully.

“I hate you,” Derek spoke into his pillow.

“Real mature, Der-Bear. I guess that means you don’t want your present.” Stiles sprawled out beside him and sighed contentedly. “I missed this bed.”

“Present?” Derek asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Stiles affirmed.

“Give me my present, Stiles.”

“I dunno, you don’t seem like you really want it,” Stiles teased.

“I will end you.”

Stiles huffed a laugh, “Close enough.” He pulled something out from the bag he had dropped beside the bed upon entering the room. He tossed it to Derek.

It was a wolf plushie. Black with red eyes. Like his mom. “Made me think of you for some odd reason,” Stiles said, nervously clearing his throat. Derek smiled. He could smell Stiles’ scent on the wolf, like Stiles had been sleeping with it.

“Thank you, Stiles.” He tucked the wolf into his chest and nodded off a few seconds later.

Stiles was glad he’d decided to get it, after all.

-

Lydia finally started acknowledging Stiles’ existence on a semi-regular basis.

Not her choice, but unfortunately they had been assigned as lab partners and a certain aspect of being lab partners with someone was that you had to speak to them from time to time. Their interactions didn’t really go outside of the classroom but Stiles was optimistic.

So, he was pretty fucking thrilled when she set her tray down at his table and sat across from him.

“Uhh… Do you need me to move?” Stiles asked uncertainly after the initial jolt of happiness passed. He was sitting alone because Derek was absent due to it being his ‘time of the month.’ Stiles had been moping around all day, checking his phone for messages throughout class.

Lydia quirked an eyebrow at him judgmentally before asking, “Where’s Derek?

“Doctor’s appointment,” Stiles stammered. He wasn’t normally this bad of a liar, Lydia and her ~~beady~~ beautiful hawk eyes set him on edge

“Obviously lying,” Lydia noted. “Whatever. How long have you guys been having sex?”

Stiles choked on absolutely nothing but air, coughing for a minute straight while Lydia stared at him impassively.

“What? Me and Der— ha. Ha ha. N-no. See,” Stiles paused to chuckle. “Derek is my best friend.”

“Riiight,” Lydia said, cynical. “You guys are way too comfortable with each other to just be platonic.”

“What does that even _mean?”_ Stiles asked.

“You’re always all over each other. You frequently give him hugs or jump on him, then there’s the flirting and the truly astonishing amount of sexual tension and eye sex.”

“Tension? Eye se- Flirting? No, that’s just how we talk! It’s _banter,”_ Stiles insisted. “Friends banter. We’re friends. Just two perfectly normal bros!” he said manically. “Right? We’re normal bros? Lydia?”

 “Do _you_ think you have a normal friendship?” Lydia asked, mouth pursed and perfectly groomed brows raised skeptically.

He thought about it. “Is it normal for best friends to share a bed almost every night and wake up spooning?” Stiles responded, filter ~~strangely~~ absent.

“Not even a little,” Lydia answered definitively, looking far more interested in this conversation than she’d been after Stiles had denied that he and Derek were having sex. “I suppose accidental cuddles happen, _sometimes,”_ she mused. “But if it’s a regular thing…” she trailed off, considering. "Anyways, I’ve seen the way you and Derek are with each other. He flirts as much as you do. Also, he’s kind of super hot. I had always assumed you two were together. It was the only reason I didn’t try to get him to myself,” she smirked.

“Hot?” Stiles repeated, bemused.

“Super hot,” Lydia confirmed.

“Oh.” Stiles stared past her, eyes glazing as he mulled this information over. He guessed he’d always known that Derek was aesthetically pleasing. Especially his eyes. Stiles had always found Derek’s eyes lovely. He had a nice smile, too, now that Stiles was thinking about it. And face. And arms. And everything, possibly.

Shit, Derek was _hot_. How had he not realized this? It was so obvious! Stiles was feeling irrationally betrayed because Derek hadn’t _told_ Stiles that he was hot.

“Stiles,” Lydia said, snapping her fingers in his face trying to break him free of his reverie.

 _“Oh,”_ Stiles repeated. “Oh— oh, God.” His face was flaming. “I’ve got— I’m gonna go, now,” he stammered, fleeing.

He left school, unable to face Lydia in their next class.

Stiles tried to sleep but his conversation with Lydia had crawled under his skin. He told himself that it didn’t matter. Derek was hot. So what? That didn’t mean that Lydia was right. That didn’t mean that they weren’t normal friends. That didn’t mean that Stiles _wanted_ Derek.

But the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him.

-

Stiles had spent the last two years constantly talking about Lydia. So, Derek noticed almost immediately when he suddenly just stopped.

“How’s Lydia doing today?” Derek teased.

“Hmm? Uhh, I dunno. Fine, I guess?” Stiles answered vaguely.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? I thought she was the love of your life and you had to know her status and whereabouts at all times,” Derek said, puzzled.

Stiles let out an awkward laugh, “Yeah, I think I’m over that. Turns out she’s in love with that Jackson kid. Like, _super_ in love. Kind of scary.”

“And how’re you doing with that?” Derek asked because he was an _excellent_ friend.

He shrugged. “I’m surprisingly fine with it. I think they’re probably good for each other. I mean, Jackson’s a narcissistic douche and Lydia may or may not be a sociopath, so…”

“Strong words about someone you supposedly loved,” Derek chuckled, suddenly in a considerably better mood than he’d been a few minutes before.

“It was an infatuation, old chap,” Stiles demurred. “Besides I think I might’ve gotten promoted to best girlfriend.”

Derek frowned at that. Something was off about this. Stiles wasn’t nearly as broken up as he should be right now. There was something else. Something he wasn’t telling Derek.

“On a brighter note,” Stiles went on clearing his throat, stalling, “I have a date.”

Derek’s jaw dropped a smidge, revealing what Stiles had once (and _only_ once under pain of death) referred to as his ‘cute little bunny teeth.’

 _“You_ have a date,” Derek repeated, eyebrows raised. “ _You._ ”

“No need to sound so offensively amazed, Der-Bear,” Stiles replied sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t even aware that you had other _friends_ let alone potential love interests,” And there was no reason for Derek to feel betrayed right now. It was irrational. This was an irrational response.

Stiles squawked. “I have FRIENDS,” he protested. Derek said nothing in response, just quirked an eyebrow.

“I have _a_ friend!” Stiles backtracked.

“Outside of Pack.”

“Outside of Pack!” Stiles shouted.

“Who.” Derek didn’t know why the thought of Stiles having another friend made him feel so uneasy. That was weird, right?

Stiles looked around the cafeteria. “S-Scott.”

“Scott.”

“Yes, Scott McCall. You remember him, right? He was in our class in sixth grade.”

“You mean the kid that suffered from illiteracy.”

“I think you mean dyslexia,” Stiles corrected.

“I thought he was autistic or something.”

“RUDE. He’s _not_ autistic.” Stiles didn’t look as certain as he sounded.

“We saw him eat an entire stick of glue.”

“We were _kids_ , Derek.”

“No, we were _twelve_ , Stiles. There’s a difference between a curious five year old and an almost teenage boy.”

“He’s very misunderstood.”

“He misspelled ‘OK,’” Derek said flatly.

“Ohmigod he has dyslexia!”

Derek rolled his eyes. “So,” he prompted.

“So, what?”

“So,” Derek huffed, “Who’re you going on this date with?”

“Oh! Uh, I don’t know if you know her,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair. “Her name’s Erica. Erica Reyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log: Dec 4th, 8:26 P.M. Yayyy, comments! Comments make me so happy you don’t even know 
> 
> Captain’s Log, Dec 4th, 8:29 P.M. Starting to wonder if all of you are suffering from some kind of psychosis
> 
> Captain’s Log: Dec 6th, 10:06 P.M. My nigga fo life, Cheese, texted me saying she’s coming over at the crack of dawn which I’m so unbelievably cool with but then she had the audacity to ask me if I had coffee. IT’S LIKE SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW ME RN! She should know that I am 73% coffee! (Out of the 75% of the body that’s supposed to be water) *crying*
> 
> Captain’s Log: Dec 6th, 10:11 P.M. She admitted she was just trying to make me cry. Bitch.
> 
> Captain’s Log: Dec 9th, 4:15 A.M. So basically I’m avoiding writing this chapter in favor of writing smut. I realize that I actually have to get the chapter done in order to post said smut but I can’t for the life of me manage to tear myself away.
> 
> Note: The uses of the terms 'dyslexic,' 'illiterate' and 'autistic' were not meant in a derogatory fashion. They were meant to be perceived as purely satirical. Derek was jealous and he was being an ass. It isn't a reflection of the way I see these disorders/conditions so, please don't take it that way. I'm not trying to offend and I'm definitely not out to hurt anyone's feelings here :c 


	6. Where Do You Get Off (And How Can I Get There, Too?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *laughs*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was considering naming the chapter 'Wow, I Can Get Sexual, Too' buttttt chapter title taken from 'Percussion Gun' by White Rabbits
> 
> Two in a day as promised!
> 
> also as promised, a touch of pornz. (Poorly written pornz, but pornz nonetheless, you ungrateful fuckers) ha haha kidding :)
> 
> If you find any mistakes please notify me immediately. This is life or death

Stiles romance with Erica was (un)surprisingly short-lived.

They sat next to each other in American History. Apparently Erica had been interested in Stiles for some time before she asked him out. For their date, Stiles took her to dinner and a movie.

The entire thing was just... terrible.

Erica kept talking over him and making these truly horrific innuendos, probably meant to turn him on but only succeeding in making him feel cheap and used. What should have ended it was the incredibly awkward failed kiss goodnight— he had gone in for a hug and she went in for a full tongue work out— but what really ended it was Erica complaining about the amount of time he and Derek spent together and then demanding that he make a choice: her or Derek.

Their star-crossed love lasted all of two-point-five days.

The only (good? not quite good?) thing that came out of the whole ordeal was Stiles finally acknowledging that his feelings for Derek were a little bit more than platonic. He had seen it clearly after Erica had told him to choose. The idea that she, that _anyone_ could ever be important enough that he would choose them over Derek was laughable.

And awful. Stiles didn’t even _want_ to find someone that could make him feel that way.

-

If Derek was in a terrible mood the entire time Stiles was with Erica, it was only because she was so obviously bad for Stiles.

There were _loads_ of things that supported his reasoning. _Loads_.

Okay, so there really wasn’t anything _wrong_ with the ~~bitch~~ girl besides the fact that she was constantly attempting to capture Stiles’ attention while he and Derek were conversing. Who _does_ that? Also, Derek didn’t much care for the way she looked at Stiles. All predatory and ugh. It was just _wrong_.

When he heard Erica tell Stiles to make a choice (he wasn’t stalking them, his proximity was purely coincidental!) his heart had plummeted for a split second until he heard Stiles laughing. It wasn’t a kind laugh, either. Stiles was laughing at Erica in the most condescending manner Derek had ever heard from anyone, Pack included.

Derek was proud. (Among other things. Vastly relieved worked, too, but Derek wasn’t examining that too closely.)

Once Stiles had gotten his slightly hysterical laughter under control, he looked Erica in the eye and said, “Yeah, I think we’re done here,” and walked away. Derek had watched for a few moments, taking some petty kind of satisfaction in the way Erica was fuming wordlessly before finally ~~skipping~~ walking back to class.

His disposition was much sunnier after that.

At lunch when Derek innocently asked Stiles where Erica was (she had taken to sitting with them for lunch) Stiles had shrugged. “We kinda broke up,” Stiles said, keeping his eyes on his plate as he ate.

“Oh.” Derek didn’t even try not to look ~~pleased~~ surprised. But then he said, “Good,” and what the fuck was that?

Stiles eyes snapped to his. He was gaping slightly, cheeks flushing. “Good? Why good?” he blurted.

Derek mentally kicked himself. “Uhh, I meant,” he faltered for a moment trying to think up a decent lie before shrugging, “Yeah, I didn’t like her with you. So, good.” He went back to his lunch attempting to keep the blush from rising to his face by sheer force of will.

In his peripheral, Derek saw Stiles lick his lips. He was staring at Derek strangely.

Stiles could have played it off with playful comments about Derek being a possessive puppy or Derek just not liking Erica because she cut into ‘bro time,’ but he didn’t. “Good,” he repeated, a smile tugging at his mouth as he continued eating.

-

“You're looking incredibly content for someone who supposedly just had a break up,” Lydia stated without preamble, sinking into her seat beside Stiles gracefully.

“Huh?” Stiles asked, distracted. “Oh, you heard about that. Yeah, it wasn’t a big deal.”

 _“Erica_ certainly thought it was a big deal,” Lydia muttered, pulling out her lab work. “But then, _she_ was invested. Unlike you, who spent the entire lunch positively glowing in the direction of your oh, so hetero ‘just friend,’” she said, flicking through her notes.

Stiles sputtered, scandalized. “I wasn’t _glowing_ at Derek! And more importantly, why would you imply that Derek wasn’t straight?!”

“You do realize that Derek was pissy the whole two days during which you and Erica were dating, don’t you? Some might even say he was _jealous,”_ Lydia smirked.

“He wasn’t,” Stiles protested. Lydia didn’t know it but she was being cruel. Stiles had spent the last few weeks after their ‘you and Derek are clearly more than friends’ conversation, _painfully_ aware of his growing crush on his best friend.

“Right, so his shitty temper just happened to coincide with your ephemeral relationship,” Lydia condescended.

“You don’t _know_ him, Lydia,” Stiles said quietly. He told himself not to get angry with Lydia. She didn’t _know_ that she was saying exactly what his hormone addled brain wanted to hear. “He doesn’t see me like that.”

Lydia’s expression softened minutely, “Maybe I don’t know him, Stiles, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” She patted his hand. “It’s not just you, honey.” She subtly changed the topic to her and Jackson’s latest fight (and the consequential make up sex) while Stiles dutifully paid attention and gave the appropriate responses, all while trying to quash the hope Lydia’s words had brought about.

Oh, God. He really had been promoted to best girlfriend.

-

“No, Stiles. The Harry Potter series is the best,” Derek punctuated by throwing the baseball back to Stiles aggressively, making his palm sting through his glove.

He and Derek were having a disagreement over what the best book series ever was while tossing a ball around in Stiles’ backyard. (Stiles had long since learned to exclude The Chronicles of Narnia from these arguments over the years because things tended to happen. Violent things).

“Dude. The Maze Runner trilogy was way better.” Stiles threw the ball as hard as he could. Derek didn’t even blink.

Bastard. He wasn’t even wearing gloves.

“They were pretty good,” Derek admitted grudgingly, tossing the ball, “But, the last book was kind of, eh,” he shrugged.

“Your face is kind of, eh,” Stiles muttered darkly, aiming at said face when he hurled the ball back at Derek.

Derek had gotten distracted by a car alarm in the distance, barely managing to catch the ball a mere few inches from his head. “I take it back,” Derek growled, baring his teeth, “The entire series was shit.”

Stiles emitted a ~~truly pathetic~~ howl of rage and rushed Derek, admittedly a bit too emotionally attached to the books at the moment to be thinking clearly. Derek had him on his back within seconds, pinning his arms above his head and straddling his legs, smirking down at him.

And fuck, that was a good view.

Stiles and Derek’s ~~relationship~~ friendship had always been a tactile one. It wasn’t a big deal. That’s what Stiles’ has been choosing to tell himself, but he’d been having trouble controlling himself now that he finally knew that he was attracted to Derek and _this_ , was _not_ helping.

He forced himself to think of death. Everyone I love is dead, he chanted furiously. Dead, dead, dead.

His dad, the Pack, _Derek_ and okay, not helping. Stiles never thought he’d be one for necrophilia, but Derek was a sight, even breathless and bloodied in Stiles’ imagination.

This was crossing borders into the _not good_ territory.

“Stiles? _Stiles!”_ Derek was panicked. It sounded as if he had been saying it for a while.

“Uhh?” Stiles brain wasn’t functioning properly.

“Stiles, did I hurt you?” he asked frantically, pulling Stiles’ head up to check for blood and/or tenderness. Only, in order to do that he’d had to re-distribute his weight, unwittingly brushing his ass against Stiles’ crotch.

They both froze. Stiles couldn’t help it if his dick, already ~~more than~~ half-interested in the proceedings, perked right the fuck up at the barest hint of contact.

They were staring at each other, blushing furiously and Stiles thought about pulling Derek down for a kiss, about rocking forward and rolling his hips into Derek’s and—

Wait, what? He snapped out of it and pushed Derek off of him, Derek falling over easily for once.

Stiles ~~ran~~ walked up to his room calmly, Derek following a couple minutes later.

And then they did their homework and ate dinner with John and pretended like Stiles hadn’t just popped a boner while he was pinned beneath Derek during a friendly spat.

“Gonna head out, Mom wants me home,” Derek informed Stiles a few hours later after John had left for night shift. “Might be back, depends on how bad Gabby and Sam are tonight,” Derek shuddered.

Stiles chuckled, “So I guess I’ll see you tonight then!”

“Ass.” Derek clapped him on the back, using Stiles’ shoulder to push himself off the couch.

“Dick,” Stiles muttered after him, somehow managing to wait a few minutes before he ran upstairs.

-

Derek ran home, refusing to think about ‘the incident’ and his subsequent inappropriate reaction. (He’d had to take a minute to _compose_ himself.)

He focused instead on the strange text his mother had sent him.

If it had been good news, she would’ve told him to bring Stiles, too. Maybe there was a hunter in town. No, that didn’t make sense. She definitely would’ve made him bring Stiles if that were the case. Would’ve picked them both up, even.

The Pack was gathered in the living room a bottle of champagne opened, everyone waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” Laura grumbled, shoving a glass in his hand.

“What is it?” Derek inquired, noticing that Sammy was crying while Gabe stood beside him, an arm around his waist and a huge, shit-eating grin in place.

“I-I’m pregnant,” Sam sobbed.

“Is that not a good thing?” Derek asked slowly.

“N-no, it is,” Sam sniffled.

Derek frowned in confusion. “Then why are you crying?”

“I’m just so h-happy,” he blubbered, flinging his arms around Gabe’s neck. Gabe patted his back, bringing his drink over Sam’s shoulder and downing it.

“And you?” Derek asked Gabe.

“I’ve been told not to speak. Apparently, your father doesn’t want to hear me brag about my ‘ass babies,’” Gabe snickered as Arthur gagged.

Derek made a face at that, but gave his uncles a hug. “That’s great, guys. Congrats. Maybe you can stop boning as if you’re tryna make a baby now that you’ve succeeded,” Derek suggested hopefully.

“Not a chance, kid,” Gabe smirked.

“Dammit,” Derek muttered. “So, why didn’t you ask me to bring Stiles if this is a Pack thing?” Derek directed towards his mother.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You wanted to tell him that your _male_ uncles are expecting a baby?” she replied incredulously.

“Sure, why not?” Derek shrugged. The Pack exchanged ~~those _irritating_~~ looks.

Em wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go for a run.”

They ran for a while, stopping at one of the lakes in the middle of the woods. They sat on a large boulder, feet dangling above the water, taking in the silence.

Neither of them really ever got moments like this, quiet. They were always surrounded by Pack, or in Derek’s case, Stiles. Sometimes, being with the Pack was more peaceful than being with Stiles. Everything about him was loud, his voice, his laughter, his _heartbeat._

Derek idly wondered when he started hearing it so clearly. He could probably hear it from here, if he tried.

His mom turned to him eventually, expression cautious.

“Derek, honey, Stiles is Pack, but he’s still _human_. You were born wolf and this is natural. For you,” she said gently. “We don’t know what his reaction is going to be. We didn’t want to ruin this for Gabe and Sam.”

Derek frowned. It made sense when she put it that way, but, “I’m not allowed to tell him?”

Em swatted the back of his head. “Of course you are, we just wanted you to mentally prepare him before we sprang this on him. Humans can be taken by surprise by this sort of thing, you know,” she deadpanned. “I remember when Sam and Gabe found out. It was right after they finally got married. I didn’t even think to tell them that male werewolves could have children,” she admitted sheepishly. 

Derek sighed at her in mock-disappointment. “Kind of a huge oversight on your part,” he informed her, pointedly adding a snide, _“Alpha,”_ under his breath.

Em knocked her shoulder into his, laughing. “Brat.” She gave a sigh of her own. “I guess it _was_ kind of dumb of me. I just didn’t think anything of it,” she shrugged. “My grandma, the one who was Alpha before me, believed it was a gift and I’ve always shared that sentiment,” she said. “There are, however, herbs that can be taken to prevent pregnancy in a wolf, even stop it once it’s happened. Sam asked for them once,” she made a face. 

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “What? _Why?”_

“There was a little... miscommunication,” his mother said, smiling slightly. “Sam found out he had a bun in the oven and had somehow gotten it into his head that Gabe wouldn’t want it. Gabe, of course, didn’t even know Sam was pregnant.” She rolled her eyes, like, _men_. “The only reason _I_ knew is because I could smell it on him.”

Derek crossed his legs, hugged them to his chest. “And then what happened?”

“Gabe found out.”

Derek grinned. “And let me guess, he was opposed.”

Em grinned back. _“Strongly_ opposed,” she agreed. “He got pissed and threw them out. Wouldn’t talk to me for _days,”_ she laughed. “I was worried there for a minute, but then I started finding tacks on my seat, so that let me know he still cared.”

Derek laughed, too, because yeah, that sounded like Gabby. 

His laughter abruptly died out when his mother said, “I’ll show you sometime.”

She didn’t say, exactly, but Derek knew she was talking about the magic werewolf birth control. “Why would you show me, I don’t need them,” Derek said in alarm.

Em side eyed him. “You might not,” she said. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, kid, if you haven’t figured it out yet,” she concluded with a smirk.

Derek huffed at her in annoyance. “What does that even _mean?”_ he muttered.

Em laughed at him. “Go on. Go tell Stiles, my little monster,” she said fondly, shoving him in the general direction of the Stilinskis.

Derek stuck his tongue out at her and started walking. “Derek,” Em called after him.

“Yeah?” he answered without turning around.

“I love you. No matter what. You know that, right?” She sounded a little worried.

Derek turned to her in surprise, running back and giving her a tight hug. “Course, I do, Mom. I love you, too,” he answered, confused as to what she was talking about but meaning it nonetheless.

“Okay, okay. No getting clingy on me now,” Em mock-griped. “God, you’re exactly like your father.”

“Nah, I’m just like my mom,” Derek said easily, giving her a kiss on the cheek and leaving her to watch him as he ran through the woods.

-

Derek had managed to put ‘the Incident’ from his mind by the time he arrived at Stiles’ house. He was distracted trying to think of how he was going to tell Stiles about his impregnated uncle and he didn’t think to check to make sure that Stiles was up or even to see whether or not the sheriff had returned home early from work. He scaled the tree and climbed in through Stiles’ partially open window to see—

_Fuck._

Stiles was in bed lying on his back with a hand wrapped around his cock, jerking himself off frantically, biting down on his fist, trying to keep quiet.

And Derek, Derek was paralyzed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t take his eyes off the sight. Couldn’t even make himself _want_ to close his eyes and leave.

Because that’s what he should do. And if he was a better person, it’s what he _would_ be doing. He’d be quietly backing out of the window instead of watching his best friend jerk off.

But he didn’t. He just stared, transfixed, as Stiles ran the other hand over his chest and stomach, down past his cock to stroke his balls, hips making halting, aborted movements as he fucked his fist. He put two fingers in his mouth and spread his legs a little wider, reaching down and touching his—

Oh shit Derek should _not_ be here, why was he still here, this was bad, this was _wrong_. 

Stiles pushed a finger into his ass and gave a choked off groan as he coated his stomach and chest with thick streams of come. He lay there, panting, for a few moments before turning away from Derek, reaching over to grab some tissues off his nightstand.

Derek fled.

-

He didn’t go home. He sprinted through the woods instead. He became uncomfortably aware of the problem in his pants about five minutes after he ran away from Stiles’ house and yeah, he had a bigger problem because now, he couldn’t even _think_ Stiles’ name without remembering what he’d looked like as he came, eyes rolling up and mouth open, cheeks stained red and sweat running down his neck and—

_Fuck._

Derek leaned against a tree as he hastily shoved his pants down and wrapped a hand around himself, coming in seconds, flushed with shame. He’d thought about Stiles the entire time.

Yeah, this was definitely gonna be a problem.

-

The morning after what Derek was mentally referring to as his ‘Night of Shame,’ he was awoken by his phone.

**From: Lord Fuckwad: Where were you? I missed my cuddle buddy last night :’(**

Derek stared at his phone for about an hour before finally answering.

**From: Der-Bear: Sorry, fell asleep early.**

**From: Lord Fuckwad: TOOK you long enough! So what time are you coming to get me? We can walk today if you want**

**From: Der-Bear: I’m feeling off. Think I’m just gonna sleep for the rest of the day.**

**From: Lord Fuckwad: Ugh. Fine. I don’t really feel like it but I guessss we can sleep all day.**

**From: Der-Bear: It’s okay. You can just hang out at your place today. I’m not gonna be much company.**

**From: Lord Fuckwad: ...I guess. If you’re sure.**

**From: Der-Bear: I’m sure. Just gonna be sleeping all day. I’ll see you later. Night.**

**From: Lord Fuckwad: Night, I guess.**

-

Derek did sleep… for a while. Until he had a particularly vivid dream that featured a certain loud mouthed boy.

He came an embarrassing amount of times, imagining Stiles beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log Dec 11th, 1:56 P.M. Just realized I haven’t posted anything all week lolol My bad. I’m kinda busy failing at life rn. This should be up pretty soon.  
>    
> Captain’s Log Dec 11th, 1:58 P.M. Remembered that tomorrow’s my dad’s birthday! 
> 
> I HATE MY DAD (jk not really)
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 13th, 12:12 P.M. After I add my post(pre?)-chapter ‘let me know if you find any mistakes’ I always wait for someone to write me saying, ‘this whole fic is a mistake.’ Oh my God it makes me laugh so hard just thinking about it


	7. The Fear You Won't Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired rn. I don't know what I'm doing anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'The Fear You Won't Fall' by Joshua Radin. The entire line is 'Part of the beauty of falling in love with you is the fear you won't fall.'
> 
> It was a tossup between this and 'Oh, You Fill My Lungs With Sweetness and You Fill My Head With You' from 'Bloom' by The Paper Kites
> 
> Totally lied about getting this finished before Christmas but on the ~~up~~ downside (really down, like below the fiery chasm of HELL) I am not moving for a few more months! So, I’ll have all the time in the motherfucking world to finish this godforsaken fic :D 
> 
> I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get this chapter up, blame the Mexicans that have taken over my house. It’s just so fucking awful and my house is a mess and they’ve eaten all of our food and someone keeps taking all the towels and putting them on the fucking floor in the bathroom. Seriously. WHY
> 
> I know I promised a lot more pornz than I'm giving but it's not my fault. Distraction!
> 
> It is 4:59 and I have literally just finished this draft. Let me know if you see any mistakes, I'm sure there are plenty

Derek was shunning him. Stiles just knew it. He was being shunned.

It had been cemented when Derek had called his _father_ to tell him that Sunday brunch was cancelled because Derek was ‘sick’ (total bullshit! _Werewolf)_ and something about how he would’ve told Stiles but Stiles’ phone was off (also bullshit. It was on and fully charged. Stiles had checked. Twice.)

Jesus fucking Christ, it was the boner thing. Stiles hadn’t been able to control his dick and now, he was paying the price.

He freaked out for a good hour before coming to the conclusion that Derek would never do that to him.

It had to be something else.

Stiles was trying really hard to believe that.

-

Stiles was crawling out of his skin by mid-Sunday morning. It was pure, dumb luck when Scott McCall texted him out of the blue.

**From: Scotty M.: hey stils! Its scot What era you and deric up2??**

Stiles thought of what Derek would say if he had seen that Scott had misspelled his own name and snorted.

**From: Stiles Stilinski: What’s up dude? Nothing just bored out of my fucking mind! Derek’s not feeling too great so he’s sleeping it off at home :-(**

**From: Scotty M.: oh tht sux :((( Wana come ovr??**

**From: Scotty M.: Like rn**

**From: Stiles Stilinski: Fuck YES**

And that’s how Stiles ended up over Scott McCall’s house on Sunday afternoon.

It was surprisingly very not at all awkward given that Stiles and Scott barely talked. They had exchanged numbers at the beginning of the school year in homeroom after it had become apparent that Scott could very much use some help in Economics. Scott had of course failed to follow up on Stiles’ offer of assistance once the new girl, Allison Argent, had caught his eye.

“So, Derek’s sick, huh?” Scott asked. He and Stiles were sitting in the living room vegging out and playing video games while Scott’s best friend/housemate, Isaac Lahey, was in the kitchen studying for the upcoming chem exam. Stiles didn’t know all the details about their living arrangements but his father had mentioned that Mrs. McCall had agreed to take Isaac in after the death of Mr. Lahey.

“Yeah, kinda,” Stiles replied, willing himself to not dwell on it, to not start panicking again.

“It’s weird, seeing you without him,” Scott continued, unaware of Stiles’ uneasiness. “Ever since you moved here, I’ve never seen you two apart.”

“Scott thought Derek was going to eat you alive,” Isaac said, plopping down on the couch next to his best friend. “Your first day of school, that is,” he added, noting Stiles’ confused look.

“And were either of you going to save me?” Stiles inquired, amused.

“Nope,” Scott answered.

“We were going to sacrifice you and hope that he’d be content with the life of one,” Isaac agreed.

Stiles laughed. “Were you all really that scared of Derek?”

Scott and Isaac exchanged a look. “Pretty much,” they said simultaneously.

“But _why?”_ Stiles asked, bewildered.

Isaac shrugged. “You know how little kids are. There were some pretty dumb rumors going around back then about the Hales.”

Stiles immediately bristled. “What _kind_ of rumors,” he asked flatly.

“There’s no need to bring up the past,” Scott said awkwardly. Stiles glared at him. “What?! Derek was a scary fucking child, okay? We didn’t even know if he _could_ smile before you came around! He was always glaring and growling and wearing dark colors!”

Stiles made a sarcastic face, like, _oh, no! not dark colors_. He considered Scott’s words. “I suppose, I did brighten up his life,” Stiles conceded. “Some would even go as far as saying that I made it better in just about every way.” Isaac lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Dude, Jackson _swears_ he heard you call Derek ‘Der-Der’ or something one time,” Scott laughed. “No one believed him, though.”

“It’s Der- _Bear_ ,” Stiles corrected. “But I wouldn’t ever let Derek hear you say that, if I were you.”

Scott and Isaac snickered. “Why’s that? Would Der-Bear cry or something?”.

“Nah,” Stiles said easily. “He’d probably just maim you a little bit,” he continued offhandedly. “If you catch him on a good day. If it’s a bad day, well, you’ll be lucky if they find all your parts by the time he’s through with you,” he said solemnly.

Their eyes widened in fear.

“I’m fucking with you! Derek’s a big softie!” Stiles assured them with a roll of his eyes. “Although, he probably _would_ pout for a good while if he heard that I let my nickname for him slip.” They both still looked a bit frightened, despite Stiles’ reassurances. “Jesus, what kind of rumors were going around when _you_ were children because _clearly_ you have carried some of that childhood trauma into your teenage years.”

Scott threw a chip at Stiles’ head. “That wasn’t _funny.”_

_“I_ thought it was funny.” Stiles stretched his hands out in a _‘what can you do?’_ kind of gesture.

“Well, it wasn’t!” Isaac said.

“Ooh good one, Isaac,” Stiles snarked. “Such a clever response. Really.”

Scott gave a war cry as he launched himself at Stiles. “No one calls my best friend dumb!” Scott yelled, putting Stiles in a headlock.

“I didn’t call him dumb,” Stiles protested. “I just implied that his response left a lot to be desired.”

_“You don’t say that.”_

“Oh my _God._ Really, Scott,” Stiles said exasperatedly. “We’re gonna go there?” He maneuvered out of the headlock and managed to pin Scott to the floor.

“Tag team!” Scott yelled at Isaac. Scott tagged him in and Isaac immediately dragged Stiles off of his best friend.

“No one fucks with Scott and Isaac,” Isaac said, an odd gleam in his eye. Stiles didn’t like that gleam. That gleam promised retribution. “We can throw him in the neighbor’s pool,” Isaac suggested.

“But it’s freezing outside,” Stiles whined. (It wasn’t.)

They ignored him. “That could work,” Scott agreed with a serene smile.

“Quick, grab his legs,” Isaac directed.

“Fucking cheaters!” Stiles squawked, attempting to flail himself out of Isaac’s grip. Scott grabbed his ankles before he had any luck.

“For Christ’s sakes,” Mrs. McCall groaned from the top of the stairwell. They barely heard her over the sound of their laughter, Scott and Isaac halfway to the door with Stiles struggling between them. “Boys!”

They both flinched and immediately dropped Stiles on the ground. “OW,” Stiles muttered, rubbing a hand over the back of his head which had just been introduced to the not-at-all-fluffy-as-it-seemed carpet.

“Who’s this?” Mrs. McCall asked, nodding to Stiles as she walked down the stairs.

Stiles pushed himself off the ground and held out a hand. “Hello, Mrs. McCall. I’m Stiles,” he introduced himself cheerfully.

“Melissa,” she corrected with a warm smile as she shook his hand. “So, you’re John’s kid, huh?”

“That’d be me,” Stiles agreed smiling. Wait, ‘John?’

“Well, Stiles, how do you feel about breakfast for dinner?” Melissa asked as she peered in the fridge.

“I feel that it is a beautiful thing, ma’am. Possibly, the most beautiful thing these eyes have ever beheld.”

Mrs. McCall laughed. “John said you were a funny kid.”

“You know my dad,” Stiles said, curious.

“Yeah, she’s head nurse down at the hospital. She has to work with the cops sometimes,” Scott explained.

“Uh huh,” his mother assented. “More often than I’d like to, given the circumstances,” she sighed. “But John’s a good sheriff. Talks about you a lot. You and your, uh, friend,” she said, smiling knowingly. Stiles found himself struggling not to blush for some odd reason. “Derek, isn’t it? Hale? Where’s he tonight? I’m surprised to see you without him. Your dad says that you two have been inseparable since the day you met,” she said.

Oh, he would probably be here if he wasn’t so busy avoiding Stiles because Stiles had popped a truly unfortunate boner whilst underneath him, most likely ruining their friendship along with Stiles’ entire life.

“He’s not feeling well,” Isaac answered after it became clear that Stiles wasn’t going to answer for himself. Stiles could feel his face burning.

He pasted a smile on through the meal and forced himself to pay attention to all the questions Mrs. McCall was asking him. He was careful of what he said, knowing there was a good chance that news of any strange behavior would make its’ way back to his father. When they were finished eating, Stiles thanked Mrs. McCall for the meal and made up an excuse about going home to study for the chem test.

“You could study here,” Scott offered, employing his puppy eyes.

“I left my notes and stuff at home,” Stiles shrugged. “Next time, buddy,” he said, ruffling Scott’s hair. Scott pushed his hand away and gave him a hug.

“You can come back anytime, okay? Bring Derek, too, when he’s better,” Scott insisted. “And it wouldn’t hurt to say hi or something at school,” he said, mock-glaring at Stiles.

Stiles throws his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be sure to greet you whenever I see you from now on. I’ll even throw in a hug and a smooch for you and Isaac both,” Stiles laughed. Isaac punched him in the shoulder.

“Why so aggressive? Are you angry because you haven’t gotten your hug yet, Cuddles?” Stiles turned to Isaac and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“Too much. Too much affection,” Isaac mumbled. “The amount of affection that I’m getting from this hug is stifling. Honestly, I can’t breathe.”

Stiles clapped him on the back and released him. “Thank, _fuck,”_ Isaac muttered.

Stiles stuck out his lower lip. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Isaac rolled his eyes, the tips of his ears going pink. “I suppose it wasn’t.”

“That means he loved it,” Scott said smiling happily.

“Fuck you, I did not,” Isaac mumbled. Stiles patted his cheek affectionately.

“How come _you_ never say hi at school?” Stiles asked Scott seriously.

He shrugged. “You and Derek always seemed so… I don’t know. You seemed wrapped up in your own little bubble,” Scott answered with a small smile. “Didn’t think you even _wanted_ other friends.”

“I don’t _need_ other friends,” Stiles admitted. Scott glanced at Isaac and nodded as if he understood. “But _having_ other friends is nice. Not that I have much experience in that department. _Obviously,”_ he laughed, Scott and Isaac joining in. They waved at him from the front door as he drove off.

Stiles had always thought that he didn’t have many friends because people didn’t want to waste their time on a spaz like him, but he was starting to think that his lack of friends might’ve had more to do with the way he’s always been so wrapped up in Derek.

Derek fascinated Stiles endlessly, even when they were children. He was interesting and brilliant and hilarious ~~and beautiful~~ and Stiles never gave anyone else a chance because no matter what they did, they’d never measure up to Derek.

Stiles should’ve seen it sooner. How being with Derek just felt right.

And now Stiles and his shit-for-brains penis had fucked it up. He sped home, suddenly wanting very much to talk to his father about this, about how to make it right.

When he got home, he found a note on the counter.

_Had to go into work for a bit. I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t get into trouble._

_Dad_

Stiles sighed. Looked like that father-son chat would have to wait for another day.

Stiles took a shower, standing under the hot water until it ran cold. When he returned to his room, there were texts waiting for him.

**From: Unknown Number: hey stiles it’s isaac scott gave me your number hope you don’t mind**

**From: Scotty M.: I giv isaac your nubmr!!! i thnk he thikns ur gna get mad or sumthng :o**

**From: Unknown Number: stiles?**

**From: Unknown Number: it's okay that I have your number right**

**From: Scotty M.: isaac’s freakng out I told him ur proly just slepping lol**

**From: Unknown Number: uhh I’ll just lose it okay sorry**

And the last one from about two minutes ago,

**From: Scotty M.: oh fuk he looks lik hes gna cry lol**

Stiles hastily read through the texts (in Scott’s case he had to decipher most of the messages first) and fired off his apologies, explaining that he was in the shower and it was most definitely okay that Isaac had his number.

**From: Cuddles (Isaac Lahey) : oh okay cool See you tomorrow**

**From: Stiles: Night, bro :D Tell Scotty to go to sleep, too! he’s always falling asleep in homeroom!**

His phone vibrated twice a few seconds later and he grabbed it, surprised that Isaac had answered so quickly.

 

**From: Der-Bear: I miss you**

 

Stiles stared at his phone. Derek usually reserved his ‘I miss yous’ for when Stiles was gone for long periods of time (like that god-awful two month vacation he’d taken with his father) not for two days of self-inflicted time apart.

**From: Der-Bear: See you in the morning**

Stiles threw his phone at the bed and paced furiously before finally slumping onto his bed with a sigh.

**From: Fuckface McGee: I miss you too asshole. See you tomorrow :)**

Stiles pushed his phone away from him in disgust and groaned into his pillow.

Fucking werewolves.

-

Derek had avoided Stiles for the rest of the weekend, his excuses growing more and more feeble.

On Monday, he tried to act normal, but failed miserably, hyper-aware of Stiles’ presence the entire day. He ended up alternating between jumping when Stiles tried to talk to him and flinching whenever Stiles casually touched him.

For some reason, Scott McCall and his friend, Isaac, had decided to join them for lunch. Derek was grateful for the distraction they provided, though both Stiles and Isaac spent the entire meal shooting him strange looks. Scott was blissfully ignorant, preoccupied with waxing poetic about Allison Argent’s shapely ass or something.

When they got to Stiles’ house after school (he’d decided to just go to Stiles’ because the alternative was being in a house full of nosy ass werewolves that were already curious because they hadn’t seen Stiles for _days)_ Stiles had dragged Derek up to his room and said, “Okay, now, tell me what’s wrong.”

Derek managed to keep a neutral face. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Derek, we’ve been best friends for years. I know when something’s bothering you, don’t even try it. Even _Isaac_ could tell something was bothering you!”

“Speaking of Isaac,” Derek began. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Are they gonna sit with us now? What’s that all about?”

“No changing the subject, asshole,” Stiles said glaring. “We both know that I’ll find out whatever it is that you’re hiding from me, why not save yourself the agony?” Stiles tried.

“I can’t,” Derek mumbled, staring at the ground.

“You know I’m right. I’ll find out, eventually,” Stiles warned.

“I wish you wouldn’t try,” Derek sighed.

“But I will,” Stiles smiled. “Derek, please?” he wheedled.

“No.”

“Pleeeeeese?”

“No, Stiles,” Derek ground out and whoa, bad idea because just saying his name made the floodgate on the thoughts that he’d been avoiding all day split right open and he could see Stiles on his bed, fucking his fist and moaning—

“You’re blushing, why are you blushing?” Stiles asked, completely oblivious to what was going on in Derek’s mind. “That’s it I’m calling Laura,” Stiles said when Derek didn’t answer.

“No!” Derek panicked. Stiles stared at him expectantly. He sighed, defeated. “I came over Friday night. I was gonna sleep here, like normal.”

“Why didn’t you show, then?” Stiles asked, confused.

Derek stared at him, mouth opening and closing as he tried to force the words out.

“Derek, you’re making me worried. What happened? Do I need to call Arthur or Em?”

“No,” Derek answered quickly.

“Gabe, then? Peter?”

 _“No!”_ Derek snapped. “I came in through the window without checking beforehand and I saw you.”

Stiles raised his brows, willing Derek to continue.

Derek’s face burned as he finally grit out, “Masturbating.”

Stiles turned pink, looking mortified which abruptly turned to pissed. “A heads up would’ve been nice, we have unlimited texting for a reason, you know,” he muttered angrily.

“I’m—” Derek started to apologize, feeling horrible about making Stiles upset, about saying anything. He should’ve just shrugged it off like a _normal_ person would have. A _normal_ person wouldn’t have thought about it and gotten off on it. Repeatedly.

“I’m sorry that _you_ didn’t think to call ahead,” Stiles spat. “I’m sorry if I disgusted you so much that you can barely _look_ at me anymore,” he went on, tone all wrong. Derek watched in horror as Stiles’ eyes filled up and he wrapped his arms around himself, bit his lip to hide its’ trembling.

“Stiles, no, you don’t disgust me,” Derek protested stepping in front of him, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him but not trusting himself enough to do so. It was difficult enough just being in the same space as him, right now.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m at your house aren’t I?” Derek said, being deliberately obtuse.

“You know what I mean, Derek, don’t play dumb,” Stiles snapped.

“It didn’t gross me out,” Derek hedged.

“You kinda already said that, Derek.”

“It kind of did the opposite of gross me out and I didn’t want to freak you out.” Derek took a few steps back as he spoke, shamefaced.

Stiles gaped. “What do you mean by opposite? What does that mean? It—” Stiles face did something complicated and Derek fought to keep his panic from showing. “You _liked_ it?” Stiles asked, eyes wide.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I promise I won’t try anything, we can forget about all of this,” Derek let out in a rush, walking backwards, blindly reaching for the door behind him. “I’ll just go home for today and tomorrow we can just pretend it never happened,” he said as his back found the door knob.

Stiles stared after him disbelievingly, “You _liked_ seeing me jerk off?” He approached Derek slowly, stopping less than a foot away.

“Stiles, we don’t—” Derek stammered. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“What if I want to,” Stiles replied, putting a hand on the door, leaning into Derek’s space.

“Stiles, what are you—” Derek began, the words breaking off when Stiles’ free hand came up to cup his dick. _“Fuck,”_ Derek did not whimper. “Stiles. What. What are—” His brain short-circuited when Stiles stroked him through his jeans, slow and deliberate. He grabbed onto Stiles’ wrist, holding him closer rather than pushing him away

“You know me,” Stiles smirked, clearly pleased with Derek’s reaction. “Had to be sure you were telling the truth, not just trying to spare my feelings. And congratulations, you were,” Stiles said drily, moving a hand to the button of his jeans. He glanced up nervously.

“This okay?” he asked. Derek just nodded helplessly.

As if he’d say no.

Derek tried to keep still for Stiles as he grappled with his pants, but his hips were twitching up rebelliously, grinding into Stiles’ palm. Stiles managed to get the pants open despite Derek being the opposite of helpful, and let out a triumphant squawk that had Derek cracking up.

It was so _Stiles_.

Stiles flushed and slumped over with a mortified groan, forehead pressed against Derek’s shoulder, and mumbled something about being a virgin forever.

“I really don't think that's gonna be an issue,” Derek said, voice dry as could be.

“Oh?” Stiles arched an eyebrow at him and smirked. “You gonna help me out?” he teased.

“What are friends for?” Derek deadpanned.

Stiles hid a smile against his skin, pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He trailed lithe fingers under Derek’s shirt, over his stomach, before slipping his hand into Derek’s pants. “I’m relieved you liked it,” Stiles confessed, while Derek trembled. “I was afraid that I was the only one who felt this way,” he mumbled into Derek’s neck.

“Wait, wha—” Derek threw his head back as Stiles’ hand touched his cock through the thin material of his boxers. Stiles took advantage of the movement and scraped his teeth over the tendon in Derek’s neck, making Derek moan and tilt his head further to give Stiles better access.

Derek blushed as his brain caught up with his actions. Where the fuck did the porn star sound come from.

Stiles drew back, noticing the sudden tension. “Are you—? Ha,” his laugh was tinged with realization and a hint of disbelief. “Don’t— don't be embarrassed. You have absolutely _no_ reason to be embarrassed right now,” he said, somehow shaking his head and nodding simultaneously. “Believe me, I like it. Fuck, I more than like it.”

Derek relaxed a bit and Stiles took that as his cue. He refocused his attention on Derek’s neck, dragging his teeth and tongue over a patch of skin until Derek was shuddering, biting his lip to keep quiet. Stiles pulled off again— which, no, not good— and narrowed his eyes.

He was expecting retaliation, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when Stiles bit his neck, hard and fast, but how much he apparently really fucking liked Stiles biting him was most definitely surprising to say the least. He gave in, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ neck, hanging there while Stiles licked over the raised marks soothingly. “Oh, God,” Derek moaned, because fuck it. Who gives a fuck about silly things like pride, anyways.

He felt Stiles’ grin against his neck and decided that he really liked it when he did that. But then, he also liked when Stiles smiled at _him_. He was hazily trying to decide which he liked best when Stiles dipped long fingers past the waistband of his boxers. Derek didn’t even try to hold back the pathetic whine that escaped from his lips. Stiles’ fingers were so close.

The proximity was ~~torturous~~ distracting.

Stiles brushed open mouth kisses up Derek’s neck to his jaw as his fingers gently carded through the hair at the base of his dick. Derek’s hand curled around the back of Stiles’ neck, fingers tensing each time Stiles’ hands brushed against his cock.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this, Der,” Stiles said, eyes dark, more pupil than iris. “You don’t even know how much I want you.” He took one of Derek’s hands, which had migrated to Stiles’ chest, and placed it over his cock to demonstrate just how much he wanted him, (which was a fucking lot) moaning and rocking his hips when Derek immediately started groping him as well he could, trying to jerk him through his jeans. “Want to make you come,” Stiles moaned, kissing Derek’s jaw, just below his mouth. “Want to taste you.”

And Derek kind of lost it and grabbed Stiles’ chin, pulling him in for a filthy, open mouthed kiss. There might have been way too much teeth involved for a proper first kiss, but Stiles seemed to appreciate it if the way he was moaning into Derek’s mouth and pressing in to hold him closer was anything to go by.

By the time Derek pulled off, because apparently oxygen was a necessity, Stiles’ mouth was red, lips swollen, probably mirroring his own. “Should’ve been doing this _years_ ago,” Stiles laughed, breathless. “The making out, not the sex,” he clarified. “A little young for _that_.”

“We could’ve been early bloomers,” Derek said with a wicked smile as he went to work undoing Stiles’ pants with one hand, needing to touch Stiles, his other hand tangled in Stiles’ hair. Derek pushed Stiles’ pants and boxers to his knees in one go and grabbed him, jerking him slowly. Stiles was mumbling incoherent, broken words, breath coming out in weak sobs like this was _hurting_ him. Derek hadn’t known how badly he’d wanted it, how badly he wanted to see Stiles falling apart like this.

“Fuck, Derek, feels good,” Stiles groaned, finally managing a semi-coherent sentence. “Gonna make me come.” He whined when Derek let go of him briefly to lick a stripe across his hand before wrapping it around Stiles’ cock again.

“Come for me, then.” He twisted his wrist and rubbed his thumb over the tip of Stiles’ flushed cock, sliding easily over the mess of pre-come that was dribbling from the head.

“Derek,” Stiles pleaded, not really knowing what he was asking for.

“Come for me, Stiles. I want to taste you, too,” Derek murmured into his ear. Stiles came all over Derek’s hand, lights flashing behind his eyelids.

“Shiiit,” Stiles breathed, voice cracking as Derek licked his hand clean, making appreciative noises like he couldn’t get enough. “Fuck, Derek.”

Derek sucked on his fingers not wanting to miss a drop and gave him a filthy smile.

A thought struck Stiles. “I wanted to make you come first, dick,” he pouted.

Derek huffed a weak laugh. “I nearly came just watching you,” he groaned. “That night I saw you, too. I didn’t even make it a mile into the woods. I jerked off against a _tree_ , for fuck’s sak—”

The rest of the sentence was lost as Stiles covered Derek’s mouth with his own, tasting himself on Derek’s tongue. It probably shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. He wrapped a hand around Derek’s cock, pulling it out of his boxers and—

“Stiles!” John called just as the front door slammed shut.

 _“Fuck,”_ Stiles and Derek hissed at the same time. Stiles tucked Derek back into his pants as Derek tugged his shirt back into place and then pulled his pants up from where Stiles shoved them down around his knees, Stiles doing the same.

“I’m gonna—” Derek said, motioning towards the window.

“Yeah, no, go ahead,” Stiles answered, nodding vigorously as he cleaned himself up with his t-shirt.

John opened the door just as Derek dove out the window. “Got off early, thought we could go out for dinner before I have to go back in,” he said smiling, not noticing Stiles’ disheveled state.

“Yeah, that’s uh, great. Good. Dad,” Stiles replied vaguely, just managing not to run to the window and to check if Derek had gone already.

John looked at him strangely. “You okay, there, kiddo?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Stiles asked defensively. His father raised an eyebrow at him.

Stiles exhaled, trying to get his heart to calm. “I’m fine, Dad. Just had a long day,” Totally true.

John eyed him speculatively. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Derek and the reason you were home alone all weekend, would it?”

 _“No!”_ Stiles squawked, blushing furiously

John just smirked. “Alright, kid. If you say so.”

-

Derek was curled up at the bottom of his tub, silently freaking out. He wasn’t sure what the fuck had just happened, or what it meant. To _Stiles_ , at least.

Sure, Stiles had _seemed_ to be all for fooling around with Derek. But it might have been an experiment. People do that, right? He might’ve already decided that being with a dude wasn’t for him and by the time Derek sees him tomorrow, he’ll want to forget all about it. And even if he decided that he was okay with fucking around with Derek, what if that was all he was interested in? Or what if he met someone better and left Derek behind? There were endless possibilities and it was driving Derek _insane_.

He was probably making something out of nothing, but that was just the thing. Derek didn’t want this to be nothing. And that was what was making this harder.

Because Derek was pretty sure he had _feelings_ for his best friend.

There was a light knock on the door seconds after he’d thrown himself across his bed. “You alright?” Em asked worriedly.

“’m fine, Mom,” Derek mumbled.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a run,” she said uncertainly. “Maybe we could talk?”

“About?”

“I dunno, about the reason Stiles hasn’t been around all weekend? Or we could talk about why you were in the shower for two hours, crying. Very manly tears, I’m sure,” she added when Derek glared at her.

“I wasn’t crying,” Derek snapped.

“Of course you weren’t, darling,” Em gave him a patronizing smile. “Run?”

“Fine. It’s not like you’re gonna leave me alone if I say no, right?”

“Right,” she agreed.

They ran to the lake.

“So?” Em prompted.

“I think,” Derek started.

“Yes?”

“I think that this is a load of barnacles,” Derek finished.

Em glared. “We’re not leaving here until you spill, you little shit,” she growled.

“What’re you gonna do if I don’t? Fight me?” Derek smirked. His mother bared her teeth, eyes going red. “Mom.” Derek chuckled nervously. Em snarled as she shifted into her beta form. “Mom?” Derek managed before Em tackled him to the ground. Derek shifted and held her off as best he could, but he wasn’t even close to being a match for an Alpha.

“Who’s the Alpha?” Em taunted, tightening the chokehold in which she had Derek. _“Who’s the Alpha?”_ she repeated.

Derek sighed and mumbled, “You are.” Em released him and howled— a smug howl if Derek had ever heard one— the Hale Pack echoing their Alpha’s howl from the house.

“Yes, thank you, I get it,” Derek said, getting to his feet and dusting off his clothes. “Even though I just took a fucking shower,” he grumbled under his breath.

“How could I have raised such a prim little pup?” Em wondered with a laugh.

“I’m not prim!” Derek protested. “You’ve just wounded my pride, is all.”

“Would’ve been simpler if you had just given in,” Em pointed out. “Now, you’ve gotten an ass beating _and_ you have to talk.”

“How kind of you to remind me,” Derek said flatly.

“Oh, child of mine,” Em said fondly. “You really are much more like me than your father, aren’t you? Arthur never quite got the hang of sarcasm.”

“Don’t try to butter me up, woman.”

“Why on earth would I be trying to butter you up?” Em asked innocently.

“Because you’re trying to get me to talk about my _feelings,”_ Derek accused.

“And what feelings would those be? The ones that involve Stiles?”

Derek gaped. “No.” His mother smirked as the lie registered. _Fucking werewolves!_

Em exhaled heavily. “Look, kid. I’m only gonna say this once, so listen up. You love Stiles, Stiles loves you. Maybe you’re meant to be together and get married and give me lots of grand-pups or maybe you’re just meant to be friends. You’ll never know unless you try, as cliché as that sounds, I know,” she rolled her eyes. Derek opened his mouth, “And don’t tell me that nothing happened, I can practically _smell_ it on you. The lovesickness. It’s worse than with Gabe and Sam,” she shuddered.

“But what if he changes his mind?” Derek asked quietly. “What if he gets tired of me? What if—”

“Derek, that boy has been with you nearly every day, hell, every _second_ since the moment you met. I honestly doubt that he’ll ever get tired of you.”

“But it’s different, being with someone, dating them. It’s different from what we have now.”

“It is,” Em conceded. “But since when does ‘different’ mean bad?”

Derek’s phone buzzed. He stared down at the screen with a small smile.

“Stiles?” Em asked.

Derek nodded.

“I’m not going to tell the Pack anything, your father included. But you should know that we love you both, whatever you decide.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Derek said gratefully. Em planted a kiss on his forehead.

“Last one home has the dishes for the rest of the week,” she sang, knocking Derek on his ass and sprinting towards the house.

-

Dinner with his dad was great!

Probably.

Okay, so Stiles hadn’t been able to focus on pretty much anything. Hell, he couldn’t even tell you where they’d _gone_.

Before he knew it he was back at home alone, walking around dazedly while thinking about Derek and his fingers in his mouth and that got him thinking about other things that he and Derek could do that involved both his fingers and his mouth. He was debating the dangers of masturbating in the living room and whether or not it was worth potentially having to scrub jizz out of the carpet when he heard a knock at the door.

Maybe it was Derek. He ran a hand through his hair and fixed his shirt nervously, his heart pounded furiously as he opened the door.

“Scott!” he tried not to sound disappointed. Of course it wasn’t Derek. Derek didn’t use the front door. (ha ha)

“You sound as if you were expecting someone else,” Scott laughed, clapping him on the back as he walked past him.

They went up to Stiles’ room and played his beat up old Xbox for a while before Mrs. McCall called Scott and told him to get his ass back home.

“So earlier, you actually looked like you didn’t know it was gonna be me when you opened the door,” Scott said as he put on his jacket. “Were you honestly surprised?”

“N-no,” Stiles lied. “Well, yeah, kinda. I mean, I didn’t know you were gonna stop by. Not that I mind!”

Scott looked at him as if he had a few screws loose. “Stiles, you invited me over.”

“What?”

“I called you, asked if you wanted to hang out ‘cause Isaac went to study at Boyd’s and I was bored? You were at dinner with your dad and told me to come by in about an hour? Ringing any bells?” Scott asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course, I did!” Stiles laughed, slightly hysterical. “I was just fucking with you! What are you insinuating, that I’m forgetful?” Shit, what the fuck else had he done in the last three hours?

“Oh!” Scott laughed. “You got me, buddy!” Stiles chuckled as he covertly went through his phone history, checking his outgoing calls and messages.

He’d texted Derek. _Fuckkkk._

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Scott asked, grabbing his bike from where he’d propped it against the house.

“Yeah, bye Scott!” Stiles basically slammed the door in his face and dashed to his room.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He paced for a few seconds before finally opening up the texts.

**To: Der-Bear: My dad’s working tonight, just so you know**

**From: Der-Bear: I’ll be there around 10**

**To: Der-Bear: Can’t wait**

**To: Der-Bear: I want you**

**From: Der-Bear: How?**

The last one, sent about an hour and a half before, read,

**To: Der-Bear: Any way I can get you ;)**

Oh, God. He was gonna be sick. Had he _really_ did the fucking flirty face? To _Derek?_ What was he a thirteen year old _girl?_ He was working towards a full blown panic attack when his phone buzzed in his hand.

**From: Der-Bear: You can have me any way you want me.**

Was he implying-?

Well, that.. certainly was a good mental image.

**To: Der-Bear: How bout you get over here. Like now.**

Derek must have sprinted the entire way because it wasn’t even four minutes later and he was climbing through Stiles’ window.

“Took you long enough,” Stiles teased.

“An entire five minutes, how ever did you survive?” Derek smirked, walking over to where Stiles was sitting at the edge of his bed, presumably waiting for Derek. Stiles’ legs bracketed him as Derek put his hands on his shoulders, smiling down at Stiles warmly. “I missed y—” Derek broke off, nostrils flaring. “Who the _fuck_ was here?”

“What?” Stiles asked, confused.

“There was someone here, Stiles,” Derek bit out, his eyes flashing. “Who was it?”

“Oh! It’s probably Scott.” Derek’s hands slid off of Stiles’ shoulders. “We were hanging out,” Stiles chuckled. Derek stepped away from him. “Derek, where are you going?” Stiles complained, grabbing his wrist.

“Do you ‘hang out’ often?” Derek asked quietly.

“Why are you saying it like that?” Stiles asked. Derek stared at him wordlessly. “No, we don’t hang out often. In fact, this is only the second time we’ve hung out.”

“I don’t want him here,” Derek growled.

“What d’you mean?” Stiles felt like he was missing something.

“I don’t want him here with you,” Derek wasn't meeting his eyes.

And Stiles got it, why Derek looked all crushed and betrayed. “Oh, yeah. No.” Derek’s face fell further. “No! I meant ‘no’ it’s not like that. I’m not interested in Scott and I’m pretty positive the feeling is mutual,” Stiles hastily explained, tugging Derek closer. The steadiness of Stiles’ heartbeat appeased Derek, though he was still irritated by the lingering scent ~~the illiterate fucker~~ Scott had left in his wake.

“I still don’t want him here,” Derek grumbled, letting Stiles draw him in by his wrist.

“Possessive, much?” Stiles muttered, lips twitching.

“Fucking right,” Derek grunted, cupping his jaw and brushing his mouth across Stiles’. Stiles sighed into the kiss and fell back against the bed, pulling Derek on top of him.

“I love it when you get all growly,” Stiles said. “Makes me feel all warm and tingly.”

“In all the right places, I hope,” Derek murmured, smirking widely.

“Mm, you could say that,” Stiles pushed Derek’s shirt up and over his head. “Oh, dear _God_ , yes,” Stiles whispered as he ran his hands over Derek’s stomach. “I knew I liked you for something.”

“Glad to know you only want me for my body,” Derek huffed.

“Who’s to blame here? Look at you! All chiseled and beautiful,” Stiles gestured to him wildly.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Derek asked, small smile playing around his mouth.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles replied, flustered. He laughed as Derek leaned down and kissed him enthusiastically. “There’s no way I’m taking my clothes off in your presence,” Stiles added. “Just an FYI.”

“That’ll make it kind of difficult for you to fuck me,” Derek whispered.

“Whoa! Hey now, we can compromise!” Stiles backtracked. “I’m all about compromise! Especially any compromise that involves me inserting my penis into _you,”_ he nodded.

“You’ll take your clothes off, or we don’t have sex,” Derek said.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles gave in, grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt and trying to pull it off.

Derek smacked his hands out of the way. “I’ll undress you.” He pushed Stiles shirt up and ran his hands down his sides, over his chest.

“You just wanna molest me, you pervert,” Stiles accused, shuddering as Derek tweaked his nipple.

“Of course, I do,” Derek agreed casually. “What good is having a boyfriend if you can’t feel him up?”

Stiles sat up, unthinking, and smacked his head right into Derek’s. “Oh, fuuuck,” Stiles groaned.

“Stiles?” Derek said frantically.

“I bet you barely even felt that,” Stiles slurred. “And I’m over here with a fractured skull.”

“I’m so sorry,” Derek apologized, trying not to laugh. “Why don’t I go grab you some Tylenol or something and you can sleep it off?” he offered with a smirk.

 _“You think this is funny!”_ Stiles cried. “I was promised sexy times! I will get my sexy times, damn you!” He tried to sit up, and gave up almost instantly, sinking back into the pillow Derek had shoved under his head with a pitiful moan.

“I’m sorry, Stiles.” Derek brows were furrowed in distress.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault I’m an idiot.” Stiles exhaled heavily. “At least you’ll be able to check on me every couple hours to make sure I haven’t died in my sleep. Or, y'know, ensure that I do. Please. Kill me.” Derek snorted.

“Or I could just wake you in a couple hours and we can have middle-of-the-night sex,” Derek offered with a sly grin.

“That could definitely work,” Stiles said quickly. Derek gave him a kiss and ran downstairs.

He returned with two pills and a glass of water. “Did you mean it?” Stiles asked quietly.

“Mean what?” Derek said as he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed.

“What you said. The thing,” Stiles mumbled.

“The fucking me thing?” Derek grinned. “Definitely.”

Stiles’ cock twitched in interest and if Stiles could manage to sit up he would absolutely be pursuing that course of thought. Maybe Derek could ride him? What? No. Focus, Stiles.

“T-the boyfriend thing,” Stiles stammered, not sure why he was so embarrassed. Derek froze beside him. “’Cause I want that, if that’s what you want,” he practically whispered.

“You’re sure?” Derek asked hesitantly. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to just because I said that,” he said worriedly. Stiles pulled him closer, intertwined his legs with Derek’s.

“Nah, you seem pretty set on it,” Stiles said nonchalantly. “Wouldn't wanna crush your dreams.” Derek punched him in the arm. “Ow! Haven’t you injured me enough tonight? First, with the withholding of sex and now with this brutal attack on my arm? You _monster.”_

Derek snickered. “The no sex is kinda your fault,” he pointed out, throwing an arm across Stiles waist.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles grumbled. “Don’t remind me.”

“Go to sleep, Stiles,” Derek gave him a light squeeze across his middle.

“Mmkay,” Stiles complied. “Night, Derek.”

-

(They ended up sleeping through the night).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore: This is really long because it took me almost two weeks to upload this chapter T-T
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 15th, 3:45 P.M. Just went to see the Hobbit and OHMIGOD. I can’t even. I was experiencing strong emotions the entire time. Like, literally my eyes were leaking the entire film
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 16th, 2:03 A.M. Holy fucking shit I just got back from hanging out with Cheese (At the park, in the middle of the night because we’re motherfucking _adults_ ) and I have never been so grateful for flannel pajamas in my entire life. I swear if I had a dick it would’ve shriveled up and fallen off
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 17th, 11:53 A.M. Forgot how much I love Paranorman. YOU STINK OF ILLITERACY! I would probably scream that at my students, too, were I a teacher. 
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 21st, 10:52 A.M. I hate my life
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 22nd, 7:52 P.M. Finally hit me that I’m not moving. I went out and bought the largest jar of Nutella I could find and a big box of crackers. I am now in my room crying into a mug of hot cocoa and re-watching Sherlock for the billionth time. 
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 23rd, 1:10 A.M. Went to see the Hobbit again :D it was wonderful
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 24th, 10:32 P.M. Just watched the final episode of Merlin. If I didn’t want to die before I def do now T-T Although, I couldn’t help but ~~appreciate~~ notice how Arthur didn’t mention Gwen at all in the end. (And how he asked Merlin to hold him ;___;)
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 26th, 12:47 A.M. Thank God for Cheese. She stayed with me the entire day even though she knows I’m not in the best of moods at the mo’. We watched Due Date, Sherlock Holmes: A ~~Gay~~ Game of Shadows, and Stardust and she painted my nails. And there were cookies. Happy Holidays, bitches. 
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 26th, 10:11 P.M. Note to self: Watching Les Mis while you’re depressed as shit is probably not the best idea (Good movie, though)
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 28th, 10:52 P.M. JUST HOLD ME. PLEASE. Oh god I’m crying over Merlin again.
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 30th 11:10 P.M. I was in a really good place with this chapter, we were good, it was flowing. For once, I looked at this fic and I saw the end and it was wonderful! So, naturally I then proceeded to spend an hour unfollowing people on tumblr! (not any of you guys, dont worry) Why? I have no. fucking. idea. I am actually _baffled_ as to how I started doing this. I also organized all my playlists on iTunes, properly renamed my video downloads that I hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet, I made some _cookies_ for fuck’s sake! I DID THE DISHES. What the holy fuck is wrong with me


	8. Sweet Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, I forgot how to plot  
> Have 4k words of absolutely nothing :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'Sweet Nothing' by Calvin Harris feat. Florence Welch. Because this chapter is a sweet nothing. Really. It doesn't have anything to do with the actual chapter.
> 
> Uhh, the next chapters will be more substantial. I'm probably gonna post another chapter within the next few days. So brace yourself
> 
> I'm really tired.  
> Mistakes, let me know if you see any.  
> If you don't I might die.

Stiles woke up, head a bit foggy around the edges, with Derek partially draped over him, their legs slotted together perfectly. He nearly reverted to their usual method of pretending that the cuddling— what cuddling? No cuddling here— didn’t happen before the events of the day prior started coming back to him. He grinned widely to himself, barely refraining from doing a little victory spasm. Derek shifted in his sleep and pressed closer to him.

It was rare that Stiles woke before Derek, and even rarer that Derek stayed asleep after he’d done so. Stiles wanted to let him sleep. He was careful not to move too much as he let his eyes wander over Derek’s sleeping form, stopping on his face where Derek’s lashes were brushing against his cheekbones, his mouth slightly parted.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Stiles blurted.

Derek’s eyes opened, glowing dimly. Welp, so much for not waking him up.

 _“Stiles.”_ And the way Derek said his name, it was like it meant something, like it was everything. Before Stiles had time to react, Derek’s mouth was on his.

He gave in to the sensation, the feeling of _so right_ for a brief moment before he pulled away, flushing, “Derek, no.” Derek looked at him confused. “I’ve morning breath,” Stiles mumbled.

“Does it look like I mind?” Derek growled, attacking his mouth again. He threw a leg over Stiles and straddled him, rubbing his (hello, that is a _lovely)_ erection against Stiles’ hip. “Derek, we can’t, my dad’ll hear,” Stiles tried weakly while Derek mouthed at his neck, scraping his teeth along Stiles’ collarbone and getting a shudder, a groan for his troubles.

“I guess we’ll have to try and stay quiet then,” Derek murmured into his skin, pushing down his and Stiles shorts, grinding their cocks together. What was left of Stiles’ protests faded as Derek licked into his mouth, Stiles’ hands scrabbling at his back trying to get him closer. They rutted against each other, Derek swallowing down Stiles’ whimpers.

Stiles probably would have been embarrassed about how quickly it was over if Derek hadn’t been right there with him, biting down on Stiles’ shoulder as he came.

“Oh God,” Stiles gasped, Derek was licking over the bite mark on his arm soothingly, absently petting his side as he tried to get his breath back. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“That bad?” Derek sounded amused, running a finger through the cooling cum pooled on Stiles’ belly.

“The worst,” Stiles lied, shivering as Derek licked his finger clean.

“Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.” Derek nuzzled him, pressed small, sweet kisses against his neck.

“Mmm,” Stiles hummed contentedly into his hair. “Lots and lots of practice,” he agreed. Stiles sighed when his alarm blared. “Ugh, no, fuck school.”

Derek pressed a kiss to his shoulder and rolled off the bed. “It’s only a few hours,” he pointed out, using a shirt to wipe down Stiles’ chest and stomach and then his own. Stiles’ mouth watered as he watched Derek bend over to pick his clothes up off the floor.

Oh, yeah. Stiles was gonna hit that.

Derek looked at him curiously over his shoulder. “Your heart,” he said, brows raised in concern. “It’s beating like crazy.” Christ, how was this guy so fucking oblivious.

Stiles smiled, unashamed. “Just admiring the view,” he said with a little waggle of his eyebrows.

He watched with interest as Derek turned bright pink. Stiles clambered over the bed and flung himself at his best friend. Boyfriend.

That was gonna take some getting used to.

“You’re so cute when you’re bashful,” he crooned, nosing at Derek’s jaw.

“I’m not bashful, asshole,” Derek sulked, Stiles’ hands sliding innocuously lower and lower down his back.

“Fucking adorable,” he murmured, his hands slipping in Derek’s briefs and groping his bare— and very fine— ass.

“Stiles! Time for school!”

“Goddammit!” Stiles yelled back without thinking.

 _“What did you just say to me!”_ John shouted angrily, voice sounding closer with each word.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles frantically pushed Derek towards the window, “Oh, fuck, goddamn fucking shit, I’m sorry, I’ll see you at school, okay?” Stiles gave him a quick kiss before all but shoving him out of the window.

John stormed into the room. Thank God, Stiles had had the sense to pull on a pair of pants. “Sorry, Dad! Bad dream, y’know,” Stiles said with an awkward chuckle.

“Uh huh,” John grunted, sounding unconvinced. “This isn’t about— You’re not acting out because of this thing with Derek, right?”

HE KNEW.

No, wait, that was just stupid. Play it cool, Stiles. “Uhh, what thing?” Stiles asked, his voice high pitched. So cool. “I have no idea what you’re speaking about, not at all. Ha ha ha. Lovely weather, all sunny and just, just really uh, nice,” he finished lamely. His father stared at him, unwavering.

“There’s no thing, Dad! Why would you think there’s a thing?!”

“Because he hasn’t been around for nearly four days and yesterday you hung out with Scott McCall. Scott McCall who has never before been to our home,” John said slowly.

“Oh. Right.”

“It’s also cloudy out today,” John added. Stiles let out a resigned sigh.

“Look, son. I don’t know what happened, but you two have been friends for years. Whatever it is, you’ll work it out,” John said, patting Stiles on the shoulder.

“We’re fine, Dad,” Stiles assured him.

“Oh?” John asked, brows raised.

“Yeah, we’re totally, uh, fine.” His eyes glazed over as he thought of just how fine he and Derek were. All kinds of fine. YEsss. “So fine,” he whispered.

“Stiles.” His dad looked a bit uncomfortable.

Oh. Right. Conversation happening now, Stiles. No time for inappropriate thoughts. No matter how appealing. Very appealing. He and Derek were boyfriends.

 _Ohmigod._ Stiles had totally just lost his virginity. Getting off together counted as a loss of virginity, right? Or was he half a virgin?

“Stiles.” John interrupted his internal debate sternly.

“Yeah, we’re good, sorry about that,” Stiles said wryly, feeling a goofy smile spread across his face.

“I-” John started, shook his head and walked out.

“Always nice chatting with you, Pop!” Stiles called after him. He ran to the window and leaned out to look around the yard.

Derek was crouched on the ground outside of Stiles’ room in nothing but his boxers, arms full of clothes.

“Sorry about that,” Stiles apologized. Derek raised an eyebrow at him. Shit. When had that become a turn on?

“What? I am!” Stiles said. “It’s not my fault!”

Derek dumped his clothes on the grass and scaled the side of Stiles’ house. He put his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck and pulled him down for a deep, opened mouth kiss that left Stiles’ gasping for breath.

 _“That’s_ a proper goodbye kiss.” Derek smirked as Stiles panted, fingers still tangled in Derek’s hair, mouth kiss-swollen.

“You can, uh, always come back inside?” Stiles offered hopefully.

“It’s probably best if I don’t,” Derek replied drily.

“So, you’re just going to take half of my virginity and leave? Villainous fiend!” Stiles clutched a hand to his chest.

“I would definitely stay but I have a feeling we wouldn’t make class,” Derek looked him over slowly as he spoke, eyes resting on his hips, his chest, his mouth, setting Stiles’ heart racing all over again. He took Stiles’ lower lip between his teeth and gave it a gentle tug before offering a strained, “See you at school,” and leaving. Stiles stared after him, watching until he disappeared through a copse of trees.

“I know, boy, I know,” Stiles said sadly to his painfully hard dick. “He just left us in this condition without offering to take care of us.”

-

Derek’s waiting for him in the quad when he got to school, as per usual, except now, Stiles had this almost irresistible urge to touch him, kiss him. Hold his hand.

His mouth went dry when Derek smiled at him, all lit up.

Fuck, Stiles wanted to hold his hand.

He settled for giving him his standard bro hug. Well, it was _supposed_ to be standard, but they lingered a touch too long and Stiles had felt Derek’s mouth brush his ear, too firm to be an accident. They walked to the cafeteria for breakfast (fuck, did they always walk this close?) hands brushing, shoulders knocking. Stiles tried his best to not just straight-up moon over Derek, focused on the people in the crowded room. He noticed with ~~annoyance~~ _surprise_ the amount of attention that Derek was getting.

And it bothered him. It bothered him a lot.

He knew he was glaring but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from doing it. They were circling like buzzards.

A particularly forward girl waved at Derek with a flirty, little smile from a nearby table. Stiles nearly threw his food tray at her. He scowled at her and aggressively shoveled rubbery pancakes into his mouth.

Stiles’ phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out with an annoyed huff.

**From: Der-Bear: Why the face**

He looked at Derek in exasperation. Derek pretended to not notice, eating his own pancakes without looking up.

**From: Stiles: Why are you texting me we’re sitting right across from each other**

**From: Der-Bear: Because of reasons. Tell me what’s wrong.**

**From: Stiles: Did you know that girl? The one that all but shoved her tits in your face**

**From: Der-Bear: She did not, drama queen. I have her for chemistry. She’s okay, I guess. I don’t really know her. We’ve never even spoken before**

**From: Stiles: Why not? She’s cute.**

Derek glowered down at his phone until he got the second text.

**From: Stiles: If you’re into vapid sluts.**

Stiles looked away, immediately regretting the jealous snipe. He didn’t want to see Derek’s face as he realized just why Stiles was being a prick.

**From: Der-Bear: But I’m not.**

**From: Der-Bear: Obviously.**

**From: Der-Bear: Well at least the slut portion doesn’t apply. The vapid part just might :)**

Derek studied Stiles thoughtfully.

**From: Der-Bear: On second thought, the slut bit might actually work**

Stiles laughed, kicked Derek under the table.

**From: Stiles: Sorry, sorry. I just never noticed how everyone seems to want you**

**From: Stiles: I want to hobble them all**

**From: Der-Bear: Kinky. Can I watch**

**From: If that’s what you’re into ;)**

Derek snorted and shook his head. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, we’re talking now? You sure you don’t want to just communicate through text messages for the rest of our lives?”

“You’re such an ass.” Derek grabbed Stiles’ tray along with his own and dumped them.

“Whatever, dick,” Stiles muttered after him, following anyway.

Derek reached over and squeezed his hand lightly as they entered the building, letting go before anyone had a chance to see.

He led Stiles down the hall, his mouth twitching in response to what was most likely a maniacal grin plastered across Stiles’ face.

Scott and Isaac were chattering excitedly outside of Stiles’ homeroom. “You didn’t have to walk me all the way to class, ba— Der-b— Shit fuck,” Stiles threw his hands up in frustration. “Derek. You didn’t have to walk me to class, Derek Hale, my best friend.”

“Stuff it, Stilinski,” Derek huffed, pulling him into a hug. “By the way, you’re adorable when you’re jealous.” The light flutter of Derek’s lips on his ear was nearly enough to make his toes curl. There needed to be sex. _Soon._ He made a pathetic sound as Derek released him, Derek smirked widely. “Patience, Stiles.”

Fuck patience.

Derek gave a low chuckle. “Later,” he promised, his eyes saying that despite his obvious restraint he really would like nothing more than to fuck Stiles on the floor of this very hall.

Stiles was not opposed. He would gladly lie on the floor and take it like the man he was.

Repeatedly.

Bad, Stiles. Bad. Not the right time to be having inappropriate thoughts about Derek and his deliciously big cock and the sounds he made when he came or the way he’d sucked in a sharp breath when Stiles had grabbed his ass, the small shiver of anticipation, and Jesus fucking Christ the way that he was looking at Stiles really was _not_ helping stem the flow of these thoughts.

Derek’s eyes glowed as Stiles’ arousal hit him.

“Stiles!” he heard Scott cry happily behind him as he and Isaac caught sight of them. Derek glared at Scott over Stiles’ shoulder, intensely irritated. Stiles could almost _hear_ Scott flinch.

“Hey, Scott!” Stiles chirped brightly, turning to face the nervous looking boy. Derek growled and gripped the hem of his shirt. Stiles reached back unthinkingly and rubbed his thumb over Derek’s hand. “How’re you recovering after the ass beating I handed you yesterday?” he asked Scott playfully.

“I wouldn’t say it was an ass _beating,”_ Scott said. Derek released his grip on Stiles’ shirt with an irritated huff.

“Oh, see you later, buddy,” Stiles told him.

“Bye, Derek!” Scott chimed in.

Derek frowned. “Bye,” he said flatly, turning on his heel and stalking to class.

“What’s with him?” Scott asked, nodding after Derek.

“Yeah, he looked at Scott like he wanted to murder him,” Isaac added with a laugh. Scott jabbed him in the side.

Stiles clapped a distressed Scott on the back. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“He totally hates you,” Isaac said, smiling gleefully.

“What? No, he doesn’t! You’re lying!” Scott wrung his hands and shot Stiles his puppy eyes. “He doesn’t, right, Stiles?”

“Wellll…”

“Stiles!”

“Kidding!” Except not really.

“Oh, good.” Scott looked vastly relieved.

Stiles followed him and Isaac into class.

Jesus, he already missed Derek.

-

Lunch was…

Tense.

Usually, Stiles sat across from him. Today he’d decided to torture Derek by sitting down right next to him, practically in his lap. It didn’t help that he kept “accidentally” touching his thigh or that his legs were splayed wide so that they were leaning into Derek’s. He kept leaning forward, speaking in Derek’s ear, laughing and smiling like he didn’t know what he was doing to Derek. Maybe he didn’t. But Derek doubted it.

It didn’t help that Stiles hadn’t showered after their… _encounter_ this morning. The scent was, in a word, mouthwatering.

He’d first noticed it when he’d hugged Stiles before leaving him with ~~fuckface~~ Scott and his best friend. He didn’t usually sniff Stiles because well, it was a bit weird, wasn’t it? But now they were together, his wolf was taking all kinds of liberties.

Like the whole marking up his shoulder/neck area thing that had gone down earlier.

As if hearing his thoughts, Stiles pressed his fingers into his shoulder, right where Derek had bit him this morning and bit his lip.

“I’m sorry.” Derek grimaced. He opened his mouth to say, ‘that must hurt,’ but the look Stiles gave him stopped him in his tracks.

“I’m not.” And his voice had this delicious rasp in it. Stiles’ arousal smacked into him, he had to close his eyes and will them to stop their glowing. He hadn’t had this much trouble controlling himself since he was a kid.

He opened his eyes to find Stiles still staring at him, heart rate accelerating with each passing second.

“Uhh,” Scott said, exchanging a confused look with Isaac.

“I left something in my locker,” Derek said, jumping up.

“I am going to help you with that.” Stiles moved to follow.

“Stiles? Is something wrong?” Isaac asked.

“No, no it’s just he forgets his combination all the time, that’s all. See you guys later!” He ran after Derek.

Right into the boy’s locker room.

“Oh, you really forgot someth—”

Derek whirled around and crowded Stiles against the wall, shoved their mouths together. “Fuck, Stiles, you can’t do stuff like that,” he muttered between biting kisses.

“Like what?” Stiles panted. “Kiss you? Because you kissed me first just now.”

Derek let him go, paced around the room. “No. You can’t,” he gestured helplessly to Stiles, raked a hand through his hair. “Jesus, you don’t know what you do to me.”

Stiles pushed him against the lockers, slotted their lips together again. He shoved his hand down Derek’s pants, wrapping it around his cock. “Let me, I want to,” he mumbled into Derek’s mouth when he tried to pull back again.

“Can’t, someone’ll see.” Derek’s hips are already jerking though, trying to get closer to Stiles’ hand. Stiles let him go, grabbed his arm and led him to the empty shower area, has him up against the wall in a matter of seconds. He’s very efficient for someone who normally can’t walk across a flat surface without stumbling at least six times.

He jerked Derek off torturously slow, muttering a string of filth in Derek’s ear. “I can’t wait ‘til I have this inside of me. You’re gonna fuck me until I can’t sit right for _days_ , aren’t you, babe? I want you to take me raw.” Derek growled at that. “And when you’re finished, I want you to fill me up with your cum. I’ll leave it there for a while, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Derek’s voice didn’t shake, not even a little.

“I thought so,” Stiles said, a little smug. “I had a theory so I decided not to shower this morning.” Of course, he did it on purpose. Of course. Derek is about to tell him what an asshole he is, but Stiles has already moved on. “When we get home, I’m gonna wrap my mouth around this lovely cock of yours.”

Derek came hard, a drop or two landing on Stiles’ shirt. Stiles licked his hand curiously, pink tongue darting between his fingers. His eyes rolled shut, “I knew, I _knew_ you’d taste good,” he groaned.

Derek has a hard time remembering how he managed to get his pants back on.

-

Lydia slammed her textbook on the lab table. “Please, _please_ tell me you and Derek finally fucked and that was the reason for all of that _blatant_ eyefucking.”

Stiles blushed. “Uhh.”

“Ohmigod, you totally did!” Lydia squealed excitedly, clapping her hands. “Details, details!”

“Not exactly, we’ve just been fooling around a bit.” Stiles tried not to sound too disappointed.

“Oh, sweetie,” Lydia tutted sympathetically. “You’re not letting him play you, are you? Do I need to have a chat with Derek? I will kick his perfectly maintained ass if I have to.”

“No! We’re together! It’s just every time we’re getting ready to,” he glanced around and whispered, _“you know_ , something happens.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll build up your stamina. It took Jackson forever to stop jizzing in his pants.”

Ugh. There were things he never needed to know about Jackson.

“I am actually offended you think I have no stamina. I have the stamina of a, a I don’t actually know anything that has exceptional stamina. But I have amazing stamina.” Lydia stared. “I can last longer than five seconds. The point is, something always comes up—” Lydia snickered, Stiles ignored her immaturity and continued, “Like, my dad’s interrupted a couple times. Oh, and last night I accidentally nearly gave myself a concussion so.”

“Ooh, sounds kinky,” Lydia purred. “What I wouldn’t pay to see that.”

“Funny.” Stiles was pretty sure she was mocking him.

“So, tell me.”

“Tell you what, exactly?” Stiles had a good idea what she was interested in.

“How big?” Yep. Thought so.

“Big enough that I’m worried I won’t be able to fit all of it in my _mouth_ , let alone,” he waggled his eyebrows and gestured suggestively.

“Oh, honey. It’ll fit. Nothing’s impossible.”

“Yeah? How big is Jackson?”

“Seven point three inches. He’s pretty thick, too,” she bragged.

“You measured him?” Lydia gave him a look that said, _Of course_.

“I’m pretty positive that Derek’s bigger.” Stiles was not bragging. Derek had a monster of a cock. It was Cock-zilla. King Cock. Frankencock, if you will.

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” she deadpanned.

“I am _not_ giving you a picture of my boyfriend’s cock.”

Lydia squealed, “'Boyfriend!’ That’s soooo cute!”

Stiles made a wounded noise. “Lydia, you’re not— You can’t tell. Like, anyone. Okay?”

“He’s not trying to hide you, is he?” Lydia went from grinning to furious in a split second. How the fuck had Stiles ever thought he was in love with her? She was fucking _terrifying._ That amount of fury should not be possible in a person so small!

“N-no.”

“He’d better not be, Stiles,” she warned in a tone that promised retribution. “He should be proud to have a stud muffin like you. You’re a great guy.”

“I know,” Stiles sighed. “He’s so fucking lucky.”

Lydia giggled and shoved his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“He’s not hiding me, Lyds. We’re just taking it slow. It’s only been a day, you know.”

“Right, ‘slow.’ And how many times has he made you come in the past day?” she asked skeptically.

_“That is not the point, Lydia.”_

“It’s okay, Stiles. I’m gonna have a talk with him.”

“Dear God, no.”

“Shh.”

-

He and Derek flat out ran to the jeep after school. Stiles was usually, okay, _occasionally_ careful not to speed, but he sure as fuck did today.

It was really hard to concentrate when Derek had his hand in his lap the entire ride.

Derek was right behind him as he tried to shove his key in the door, mouthing at the nape of Stiles’ neck with his hands on his hips, pressing his cock against Stiles, Stiles just shamelessly grinding back while he worked the lock open.

“Derek! Good to see you, son,” John said happily, when he and Stiles stumbled through the door. Because of course, Stiles’ dad would have to be home right now, a whole two hours earlier than he was supposed to be. “Is it hot out? You look a bit flushed.”

“Dad! What’re you doing home so early,” Stiles tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. It wasn’t his dad’s fault that he’d up and ruined his and Derek’s sexy times.

“Oh, I’ve decided that I’ve been neglecting you too much. I’m gonna try to be home a lot more often!” John smiled brightly.

“That’s great, Dad!” Before the recent development in Stiles’ love life, development meaning that Stiles now actually _had_ a love life, he would’ve been thrilled to have his dad home more. But, now…

How the fuck were he and Derek supposed to fuck if his dad was always around?

-

Derek gained a healthy respect for Lydia Martin when she cornered him about two days after he and Stiles started dating and threatened to dismember him if he broke Stiles’ heart.

_“No one will find the pieces, Hale.”_

After he assured her that he had no intention of doing such a thing, she’d given him a vaguely threatening smile and flounced away. She was a bit terrifying.

Later the same day, she’d dragged an unwilling Jackson— who brought with him an amused Danny— to his and Stiles’ now crowded lunch table. Isaac’s friend, Boyd had also taken to sitting with them, though mostly he just stared at them all like they were dumb and grunted out responses when directly asked questions.

Derek liked Boyd.

Scott on the other hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log Dec 31st 11:05 A.M. Woke up to a text from Cheese that said, ‘Ready to go to the taxidermist?’ because my best friend thinks it’s hilarious to tell me that I’m going to die and she’s going to stuff me and have tea parties with my corpse. It actually kind of is
> 
> Captain’s Log Dec 31st 11:38 A.M. Shout out to the three people that still read my fic! (And to the person that removed their author subscription: I ain’t even bovvered) … :{ Update: Someone added an author subscription but I can’t tell if it was the same person I wish you guys would stop playing with my fragile heart
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 1st 5:16 P.M. Hearing from new people is great, like really, really awesome actually. But all the people that wrote me for the first few chapters stopped writing me and it’s made me sad. Was it the Chad? :c
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 2nd 1:27 P.M. So glad you people can’t take back your motherfucking kudos muahahaha.
> 
> You can’t right? This is important someone answer me
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 2nd 1:21 A.M. Started drawing again. Why, you ~~probably didn’t~~ ask? To avoid writing this chapter, of course! :D
> 
> Comments are APPRECIATED.
> 
> I was waiting to see if someone would notice the Pineapple Express reference in the last chapter but no one mentioned it ;-; btw, if you get one of my stupid references and you mention it, I will love you 5ever and you will totally get cookies. I’m not even kidding. I will send you cookies.


	9. Just Like We Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhh, so plot ran away.
> 
> I can’t find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from 'Just Like We Do' by Eisley
> 
> I am open to suggestions for music. And if you talk to me, I shall love you forever.
> 
> Actually, there was supposed to be more to this chapter but it was a bit too rough so I cut it off and it’s okay because now my chapter number will be even! Huzzah!
> 
> So, ~~two~~ four more chapters to go + the epi :D (That = ~~twelve~~ fourteen, guys)
> 
> Also, there may or may not be another fic I’ve been working on. It’s not going to be anywhere near as long as this one. Shh, don’t cry. I’m sorry. It was supposed to be a one-off but I’ve broken it up into ~~four~~ six chapters. I’ve already put up the first chapter. (It's finished)
> 
> Mistakes, I would be eternally grateful if you pointed them out, seeing as I am not in the right frame of mind at the mo' (or ever)

Things were good.

Understatement of the century. Things were fan-fucking-tastic.

Even if Stiles’ father had apparently taken it upon himself to be his and Derek’s own personal cockblock.

It was only three days since John had announced that he’d be “spending more time” at home and Stiles already had the worst case of blue balls in the history of _ever_.

“We could do it at yours,” Stiles suggested hopefully. He and Derek were in Stiles’ room, sprawled on their bed. “They wouldn’t care, right?”

Derek sighed. “They wouldn’t stop us, but is it really worth all of the torture we’d have to endure?”

“Probably not.” Stiles shot up excitedly. “We could go for a drive!”

“Stiles. Our first time isn’t gonna be in the back of your piece of shit jeep.”

“RUDE. How dare you call my baby a piece of shit. She is a fine piece of machinery.” Derek glared at him. Stiles sighed. “You’re right, of course.” He slumped back onto the bed and popped back up almost immediately. “We could—”

“No.”

“But you don’t even know what I was going to say,” Stiles protested.

“We are not having sex in the fucking woods, Stiles.”

Stiles crossed his arms. “Oh, so, you’re a mind reader now?” 

“No, you’re just easy.”

Stiles waggled his eyebrows. “Only when it comes to you.”

Derek’s scowl softened, a reluctant smile taking its’ place. “Dummy.”

Stiles tugged at his hair until Derek crawled over and gave him a kiss. They made out for a while, not daring to take it further. They’d learned the hard way that John liked popping in at random moments and that even though they had Derek’s veritable spidey senses on their side, Derek was exceptionally unobservant when his attention was otherwise occupied.

In other words, John had walked in and Stiles had to knock Derek off of the bed and pretend he’d been having Alone Time.

—

“My _eyes!”_

“Learn to _knock,_ would you?!” Stiles cried, covering up his junk with a pillow. “This is Stiles Time, Dad! Stiles Time!

“Sorry, I’m— Why didn’t you lock the door, dammit!”

“Because—” He stopped. Why hadn’t they locked the door? He heard Derek snort lightly from the floor. Oh, right, because Derek was here and that would’ve been suspicious.

“Where’s Derek?” his father asked as if he’d read Stiles mind. A worrying thought, to be sure.

“He went home, like an hour ago,” Stiles said quickly. He forced himself not to glance in the direction in which Derek was hiding. No suspicious behavior, Stiles. No suspicious behavior at all— aaand he was sweating. He could only hope that his father would chalk it up to what he’d supposedly been doing. 

Well, he’d been doing it— and doing it well— just not alone like he was trying to get his father to believe.

“How does that boy get in and out of here without me seeing him? It’s like he’s climbing the walls and crawling through windows!”

Stiles gave an awkward laugh. “That’s just preposterous.”

—

Lesson learned, they stuck to above the belt action whenever John was home.

Which was basically always.

-

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, pup,” Em said, hugging Stiles tight.

“I know, nearly four whole days this time,” Stiles sighed sadly and shot a mock-accusing glare at Derek. “Derek’s barely let me out of b—” Derek elbowed him sharply in the side. “ROOM. He’s barely let me out of the room. Oh, wow, is that a new haircut, Laura?” He abandoned Derek and struck up a conversation with his sister.

Em quirked a questioning eyebrow at her son (who was staring at the ground stonily, refusing to acknowledge her scrutiny) and put an arm around his shoulder. She leaned in, “I’m here if you’re ready for that talk, kiddo.” She clapped him on the shoulder and went to join the rest of the Pack in the living room where they’re all vying for Stiles’ attention. They’d been spending a lot of time at Stiles’ house, trying to keep away from prying eyes— and ears because John might pop up randomly but at least he couldn’t hear them from across the house— and the Pack missed Stiles like crazy.

The pups came scrambling out of the nursery.

“It’s a prison break!” Gabe shouted in terror as the cubs jumped over the couches and converged on Stiles.

Derek watched fondly as his little cousins clawed their way up Stiles’ legs.

“Where have you _been?”_ Rose, Jr. demanded, the other pups looking at him expectantly.

“I’ve been, uh,” Stiles stalled.

“’Tiles, ‘Tiles,” Peter’s second youngest, Cas came barreling after his siblings and cousins, blanket tangled around his legs, clapping his chubby hands together.

Stiles scooped him up, making the cub squeal in delight. “Ohmigod, I’m gone for a week and you grow an entire foot!”

“No, I didn’t,” Cas giggled.

“I swear, you did. What are they feeding you? Can I have some? Derek’s getting taller than me again,” he pouted. Derek grinned.

“You can have some of mine,” Liam offered. “Not the meat, just the green stuff,” he clarified, sticking his tongue out in distaste.

“Alright, brats,” Peter said gruffly. “You’ve seen Uncle Stiles, now, back to bed with you. Nap time isn’t over.”

“But, Dad,” Rosie and her twin brother, Magnus, wailed in unison.

“No, buts. Asses back in bed.”

“Listen to your uncle, Liam,” Gabe said. “He may be an idiot, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to do what he says.”

“Fuck you, Gabby,” Peter growled, eyes glowing a warning.

Laura got up with a sigh and ushered the pups back into the nursery. “Here we go again,” she muttered.

Sam moved to crouch protectively in front of his husband and growled.

Peter laughed, nervous. “Just a little joke. I meant no harm,” he offered, trying to diffuse the situation. Because as temperamental as a wolf with a pregnant mate might be, pregnant wolves? Much worse.

Sam snarled and snapped his teeth as he closed in on his usually-best friend.

“Should I be worried?” Stiles directed to Gabe.

“Nah,” Gabe replied, unconcerned. “This has been happening at least four times a day. That’s why Peter’s so grouchy. He keeps getting his ass kicked.”

“And by a _younger_ wolf, no less,” Peter threw over his shoulder as Sam backed him into a corner.

“Should’ve kept your gob shut, Pete,” Gabe said cheerfully.

“You’d think he would’ve learned by now,” Arthur commented, shaking his head in disappointment.

“He’s always been a bit slow on the uptake, our Peter,” Em smirked. “It’s the golden rule.”

“What is?” Stiles asked curiously.

“Never fuck with a pregnant wolf,” Arthur, Em and Gabe replied simultaneously.

“But Rose isn’t a wolf?” Stiles said confusedly.

“Or the pregnant mate of a wolf!” Derek interjected, furrowing his eyebrows and widening his eyes at them in an attempt to convey that Stiles didn’t know yet.

“Oh.” Stiles looked uncertain.

“Are you fucking kidding, right now, Derek,” Laura said flatly.

“Wait. That totally doesn’t make sense because Sam’s the one that’s acting as if he wants to kill Pet—”

“C’mon, didn’t you want to study for that test before your dad got here for dinner?” Derek tugged him out of his seat and all but carried him by the arm up to his room.

Stiles toed off his shoes and jumped on Derek’s bed. “Okay, what’s up?” Derek shook his head.

He turned on some music, turning it up until it was verging on obnoxiously loud and locked the door to his room.

Stiles raised his eyebrows as Derek approached him, knelt over him on the bed.

“Wanna fool around?” Derek said directly in his ear.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” Stiles replied cheekily, the desperation with which he tangled his fingers in Derek’s hair and crashed their mouths together ruining the effect of his light tone.

Derek knew Stiles’ mouth as well as he knew his own, better even. He knew how he liked to be kissed, knew what made him gasp and shudder and groan. He knew that Stiles loved it when he bit his lip, sucked on his tongue.

He also knew that if they didn’t stop now, they’d be doing the walk of shame come dinnertime.

“Mm, nooo,” Stiles groaned as Derek rolled off of him, he made grabby hands, “Come back.”

“Can’t. Werewolves.”

Stiles pointed to the bathroom. “Shower after.” _Duh._

“You’re not exactly the quietest person, Stiles.”

“I can be quiet!” Derek smirked skeptically. The last few weeks had proven otherwise. If anything, Stiles had gotten louder as time wore on.

“I can,” Stiles repeated weakly.

Derek reached over and gripped Stiles through his pants, planning on proving his point and letting go, but his resolve nearly failed as Stiles let out a helpless groan and rolled his hips.

“Shit. Stiles, I’m sorry,” Derek attempted to move his hand but Stiles grabbed it and held it in place.

“Don’t you do it, Derek. Don’t you let go of my dick.” 

Derek snatched his hand away and sprinted to the stereo, turned it off.

“Bastard!” Stiles threw a pillow at him. Derek ducked and gave him a chipper smile. “That’s it.” _No sex for you, fuckface,_ Stiles mouthed. “You’re sleeping on the fucking floor, tonight.” _Cocktease._

 _“Trouble in paradise,” Laura snickered from below._ Nosy bitch.

Derek ignored her. “I think I hear your dad’s car.”

“Why would my dad be here already, it’s only,” he glanced at his phone, “It’s only six.”

“It’s Friday, he probably wants to start drinking early.” Derek shrugged.

“Friday?” His eyes widened as realization dawned. “Ohmigod. It’s Booze-a-Palooza!” Stiles crowed.

“Booze-a-Palooza!” Gabe and Arthur yelled from downstairs, equally animated.

Derek groaned.

Gabe and Stiles had come up with the stupid name. Derek refused to say it. Ever.

“I don’t know why you always get so excited about it, it’s not like you’re allowed to actually _drink,”_ Derek muttered.

“Not the point, _Sourwolf.”_

Derek stared at him, like, _seriously._ “Sourwolf. That’s your witty comeback. _Sourwolf._ It’s not even clever.”

“Fuck you, Derek, it’s totally clever!”

Derek sighed and gave up. He’d long since learned not to argue.

-

After dinner, the adults played poker and did shots. Y’know, normal adult shit. Derek and Stiles were on cub duty since Laura was now old enough to drink. Well, she wasn’t _technically_ , but now she was older, John was more willing to turn a blind eye.

“Not drinking tonight, Sammy?” John asked. He’d noticed that Sam wasn’t drinking the last few times he’d come around, too, but hadn’t thought to ask why before now.

“Uh, no,” Sam shifted in his seat. “I’m not gonna be drinking for a while.”

“That’s probably a good idea. You’re getting a bit of a beer belly, there,” John teased, giving the younger man’s stomach a pat.

There was nothing much there, Sam was only about three months along, but that didn’t stop him from bursting into to tears. He ran to his and Gabe’s room, wailing the entire way, and slammed the door behind him.

John looked to Gabe, bewildered.

“It’s the hormones,” Gabe sighed, throwing his cards down and going to coax his husband back downstairs.

John watched him leave, confusion written all over his face.

Stiles and Derek saw the display from the living room where they were watching a movie with the cubs.

                _“Oh, my twitchy, witchy girl_

_I think you are so nice…”_

“What was that all about?” Stiles wondered.

The Pack turned their heads in unison to glare at Derek.

Up until the earlier slip up, they had figured Derek had told Stiles already. He was feeling guilty about not doing it but every time he and Stiles were alone, there’d been… other things on his mind.

And in his hand. And mouth.

“Uh, walk?”

Stiles took his hand as soon as the house was out of sight. They walked in comfortable silence to the little lake where Derek and his mother had taken to having their existential chats.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to mention,” Derek started.

“What’s that, buddy?” Derek frowned slightly at that but shook it off.

“There’s, uhh, news. About Sam and Gabe.”

“Ohmigod, what happened?” And of course Stiles immediately assumed the worst. “Does Sam have cancer?? Are they getting a divorce?! Is that what’s going on?! Can werewolves even get cancer? Oh fuck, oh God, what if you get cancer?” Stiles looked as if he was going to have a panic attack.

“It’s nothing bad, Stiles. Jesus, calm down!”

“Why do you look so nervous then?!”

“I’m not, it’s just—”

Stiles cut him off. “You totally are.” Derek opened his mouth to object. “Don’t you lie to me, Derek Hale.”

“Well, maybe a little but—”

“That’s what I thought,” Stiles interrupted, smugly.

“They’re having a baby,” Derek blurted.

Stiles blinked and pawed at his ear. “Uhm, what was that?”

“Sam’s pregnant.”

Stiles stared at him blankly for a few moments before smiling hugely. “Oh, I get it. You’re having me on. Funny, Derek.” He gave a sarcastic chuckle and started walking back towards the house.

“Stiles.”

He turned around and copied his stance. “Derek,” he mimicked.

“My uncle is pregnant.” They stared at each other for a long moment.

Stiles’ eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my fuck. _What?”_

“Surprise?” Derek smiled. It was painful.

“Surprise? That’s what you’re going with? How long have you _known?_ Why didn’t you _tell_ me?!”

“I was going to, I actually went over right after I found out, but then I kinda caught you, uh, masturbating. And things happened. Forgive me if I had other stuff on my mind,” Derek deadpanned.

“But that was a long time ago!”

“Nearly a month,” Derek agreed sheepishly.

“A month and four days,” Stiles corrected, abruptly distracted. “I know this because it was a three days before we got together. And we’ve been together for—”

“One month, one day, and about two hours,” Derek finished for him. Stiles gaped. “Not that I’ve been counting or anything,” Derek muttered, blushing.

Stiles attacked his mouth. “You still have a policy against having sex in the woods?”

“I’ve already told you, Stiles. We are not having sex for the first time in the fucking woods!”

“Ugh, so picky,” Stiles complained. “One would think that you didn’t _want_ to have sex with me.”

Derek tugged him to his chest, chuckling wryly. “You and I both know that’s not even close to true. I want to so badly it _hurts_. Literally. My balls are so blue, I’m afraid they’re going to stop functioning properly.” Stiles laughed and poked Derek in the stomach. “I want to have sex with you, Stiles, but I want our first time to be special, not in the woods or in the back of a car or a fucking quickie while your dad is out running an errand. We’ll have the rest of our lives for all of that.” Stiles pulled Derek into a slow, deep kiss that quickly turned heated it because, yeah, teenage boys and minimal self-control.

“Let’s stop before I change my mind and fuck you on the ground.”

Stiles laughed but complied. He wanted their first time to be more than a hurried fuck on the cold ground, too. It was just really hard remembering that when Derek was kissing him or touching him. Or looking at him. Or just in his general vicinity.

“How’s your family handling it?”

“Well, most of ‘em just said it was about time they had another one. Everyone’s happy to have a new addition to the pack, of course.”

“‘About time,’” Stiles echoed. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

“About what?” Derek tugged at his hair, trying to distract him.

Stiles huffed and put his hands on his hips. “About the giant, rainbow fucking elephant in the room, Derek!”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Derek lied.

Stiles shoved at his shoulder, rolling his eyes, and pressed on. “Is it just werewolves? Or is it—”

“It’s a werewolf thing,” Derek assured him with a sigh.

“But if we…”

“Yeah, when you fuck me, we’re going to have to use protection.” Stiles looked just as disappointed as Derek felt about this development. “Oh, but apparently there’s a plant that prevents it, kind of like werewolf birth control. My mom told me she’d give me some when I needed it, so there’s that at least.”

“Wait, your mom knows?!?”

“No, of course n—” Derek began, stopped halfway through. Holy shit. Holy shit. “My mom totally knows. Ohmigod. Oh my GOD.” He crouched, put his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

“Derek,” Stiles uncertainly took a step towards him, hands out as if Derek were a spooked horse.

“Oh, _God,”_ Derek moaned. “She _knows.”_

“This isn’t a bad thing,” Stiles soothed. “We were going to tell them soon anyways. Right? We were going to tell them?”

“Yeah, but. So many things are starting to make sense right now and I’m just kind of freaking out a little bit.”

“Think she’ll mind too much if I’m your boyfriend?” Stiles chewed on his lip, anxiously.

Derek stopped panicking. “Of course, she won’t. She loves you Stiles. As much or more than she loves me,” he said lightly, pulling Stiles down into his lap, Stiles snuggled in. “The Pack loves you, you’re family. We’re not not-telling them because we’re worried they won’t approve. We’re not telling them because they are nosy as shit and we’re trying to postpone the constant humiliation and horrible innuendos for as long as possible.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“Yeah, why’d you think we were waiting?”

“I dunno. I thought maybe you weren’t really,” he mumbled something indecipherable.

“What?”

“I thought maybe you weren’t sure? About this, us, _me.”_ He drummed his fingers on his leg absently.

“Stiles.” Derek stared at him until he met his eyes. “I’m sure,” he said firmly.

Stiles’ smile was brilliant. He got up, pulled Derek to his feet. “Wanna go home before my dad and y’know,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

He pressed a kiss below Stiles’ ear and grabbed his hand, led him back towards the house. “Of course.”

-

Derek was surprisingly clingy once he and Stiles became boyfriends.

Well, perhaps clingy wasn’t the right word. Clingy had negative connotations. There was nothing negative about this situation. Nothing at all.

Derek walked him to class and was waiting outside when the bell rang. How he managed to get there before Stiles was beyond him, given that Stiles all but sprinted for the door the second the class let out.

He was also extremely... protective. He had a sullen scowl reserved for anyone that came too close to Stiles, only making an exception for Lydia of all people.

“Why doesn’t Derek give you the hate-glare?” Scott complained, pouting, only brave enough to ask because Stiles and Derek had gone on one of their ‘I seem to have left something in my locker that I am suddenly in dire need of’ and ‘oh yes, let me help you’ runs.

“Probably because he’s afraid she’d suck out his soul if he did,” Jackson muttered under his breath, getting a sharp kick in the shin.

Lydia ignored his cry of pain. “Because I have been very supportive of his and Stiles’ recent… _development,”_ she smirked.

“I fucking _knew_ it,” Danny breathed, eyes wide. “Wait. Recent?” his voice shot up in disbelief.

Scott and Isaac exchanged a confused look. “What development would that be?” Isaac asked.

Jackson and Lydia leveled them judgmental looks. “Seriously,” they said in unison.

“Anyways, don’t let on that you know. I told Stiles I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Tell anyone what?” Scott’s face was scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

Lydia smiled widely. “Don’t worry. You will.”

-

He and Stiles were at lunch, the first ones at the table.

“I want to go home,” Stiles complained from the seat next to him.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Only two and a half hours left, Stiles. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

 Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You keep talking like that and I’ll start withholding the sex.”

“Technically, we haven’t _had_ sex yet.” Thanks to your dad, he didn’t add. Because he loved John. He did.

Even though he was the biggest cockblocker in the history of ever.

Stiles’ smile was secretive, as if he knew something Derek didn’t. He started shoving his fries down his throat as if they were trying to get away from him.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Stiles said offhandedly.

“Stiles,” Derek warned.

Stiles gave a put upon sigh. “It’s nothing, really. Just my dad may or may not be working more often for the next few days. A few weeks even, if we’re lucky.” He beamed, a light blush spreading across his face as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “And…”

“And?” Derek prompted, mouth curving at the out of place look of uncertainty on his face.

“And I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date?” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “With me. A date. With me as your, uh. Date.”

“Yes.” Derek’s response was immediate.

“Really?” Stiles asked, disbelieving.

Derek didn’t even have it in him to be sarcastic, Stiles was smiling so brightly. “Yes.”

“Friday? I was thinking dinner, a movie and then we could head home? Only for some heavy petting, of course,” he smiled slyly.

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“What kind of boy do you think I am? You’re not getting any until the third date, at least,” Stiles said primly.

Derek let his eyes roam, the way he knew flustered Stiles, licked his lips. “That so,” his voice went husky.

He heard Stiles’ sharp intake, saw his pupils dilate.

“Hey, guys!” Scott said happily, sliding into his seat across from them. They broke apart guiltily. Derek hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten to making out in the cafeteria until that moment. “What’re we talking about?”

Derek glared at Scott, mentally cursing the boy for his lousy timing.

“Oh, nothing. Just school stuff,” Stiles answered lamely. “Right, buddy?”

And it usually didn’t bother Derek when Stiles called him buddy. It had been a common endearment since they were kids, why should it suddenly start irritating Derek now?

Okay, so maybe since his and Stiles’ friendship had turned into an actual relationship, it had started bothering him a ~~fuckload~~ bit.

But when Stiles used it in front of ~~Scott~~ their friends (and Derek was using the term loosely) Derek had to bite back the urge to growl. Especially around Scott. There was something about the guy that just irked the shit out of Derek.

He knew it was unreasonable, getting worked up over it. _He_ knew it, but his wolf didn’t seem to be getting the memo.

He really should’ve played it off instead of snarling at them, both Scott and Stiles, and leaving the cafeteria.

“Did I say something—?” Scott started, but Stiles was on his feet following Derek before he finished.

Derek was facing away when Stiles burst in the locker room after him.

“Derek, what is i—”

Derek was on him, shoving him against the wall, shoving their mouths together. Stiles responded enthusiastically. He could tell that Stiles wasn’t scared of him from his heartbeat, his scent, even with Derek wolfed out, claws ripping his clothes to shreds, not even with the sounds that were tearing their way from his throat.

He gradually calmed enough to slip back into his human form, his hands growing clumsy as the change overtook him and Stiles pushed his hands out of the way, shoved their pants down and gripped them both in his large hands, desperation coming off of them both in waves as he moaned into Derek’s mouth.

Derek didn’t deserve him.

Stiles cleaned them up afterwards with the remains of his t-shirt. “I liked that shirt,” Stiles sighed, tossing the evidence into a bin.

Derek grimaced, hung his head in shame.

Stiles plopped himself down on Derek’s lap and put an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, no sad face after sexy times,” he said lightly, knocking their heads together.

Derek sighed and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, tugged him closer. “I’m sorry.” For being an asshole, for possibly freaking you out over nothing.

“Okay,” Stiles said easily. “Now, are you gonna tell me what that was all about?”

“I don’t know, really. We just get really irritated when Scott talks to you, when anyone talks to you actually, but Scott especially. And then he interrupted and you called me ‘buddy’ like we weren’t just talking about going on our first date, like I haven’t seen what your face looks like when you come, like you’re not my boyfriend and I just got...” he shrugs helplessly.

“Ah. You’re jealous.” There was a smile tugging at Stiles’ mouth.

“No, I’m not. I’m,” he stopped and thought about it. “Huh.”

“Jealous,” Stiles sang.

Derek groaned. He’d just had the werewolf equivalent of a temper tantrum because he was jealous. Of Scott McCall. He’d never live it down.

Stiles pressed a kiss to his forehead. “C’mon, if we leave now, we can still eat,” Stiles said. Derek clutched him tighter. “Also, I’m going to need to find another shirt to wear, seeing as you absolutely obliterated the one I had on. I’m going to have to find one in the darker recesses of my locker. God help whoever has to sit near me.” He shuddered dramatically.

Derek perked up. “I have a clean shirt you can borrow. Well, clean-ish.” He dumped Stiles off of his lap and went to his locker.

“Chivalry, thy name is Derek,” Stiles muttered, getting to his feet. Derek threw the shirt at his head.

“Dick,” Stiles laughed, tugging the shirt over his head.

“Ass,” Derek murmured, staring.

“What, does it look bad?” Stiles asked nervously.

Derek backed Stiles into the lockers. “Quite the opposite,” he licked a stripe up Stiles’ neck, palmed him through his jeans. “We like it when you wear our clothes.”

“Is it weird that I find it unbelievably hot when you talk in wolf-plurals? Because I do,” Stiles said. Derek mouthed at his collarbone, slipped his hand down Stiles’ pants. “Ohmigod, how are you so hot,” he mumbled before he pulled Derek’s mouth up to his.

They were both so far gone that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until Scott rounded the corner, Stiles blushing furiously and Derek glaring at him while trying to cover as much of Stiles as he could.

“Holy shit,” Scott gasped. He stood there a moment, gaping, before breaking into a huge, dopey grin. _“Oh!_ That’s what Lydia meant!” he said excitedly.

“Fucking Lydia, I _told_ her not to tell anyone. Think she listens? No, let’s just go around telling everyone that Stiles and Derek are together after Stiles specifically told me not to!”

Derek growled at Scott for working Stiles up. Without thinking, Stiles ran his hand, which was still under Derek’s shirt, over his side soothingly.

Scott all but cooed at the gesture. “It’s great,” he said happily. “You guys are, like, the perfect couple. I’m so happy for you! When’re you getting married? Are you guys going to have kids? Can I be in the wedding? Do you guys want to come over and play video games this weekend? Stiles told you that I said you could come over and hang out with me and Isaac anytime, right?”

Derek blinked. “What?”

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s neck and shook with silent laughter.

“So, you’ll come over?”

“Uhh,” Derek said uncertainly. Scott gave Derek his puppy eyes. “Yes?”

“Great! I’ll let you get back to your,” he gestured vaguely between them, “stuff.”

Derek waited until Scott was gone before asking, “What the hell just happened?”

Stiles cracked up, “I think we just got ourselves a bridesmaid for our future nuptials.”

“Oh, and have you put much thought into said nuptials?”

“Mm-hmm,” Stiles affirmed. “Your dress is lovely.”

 _“My_ dress?” Derek asked, laughing.

“Yep. I’ve been fantasizing about pulling down your garter with my teeth,” he smirked. “Probably not the best idea, wouldn’t want to end up blowing you in front of all of our friends and family.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Ooh, is my future bride an exhibitionist?” Stiles teased.

“I meant with you blowing me, in general,” Derek said.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Mr. Hale?”

“I wasn’t exactly being subtle,” Derek deadpanned.

Stiles grinned evilly and dropped to his knees.

“What’re you—? Oh, fuck,” Derek groaned as Stiles unbuttoned and unzipped his pants in a practiced move and began mouthing at Derek through his briefs. They hadn’t done this before but Stiles wasn’t hesitating at all. He licked along the line of his cock, sucked at the head through the damp fabric, moaning at the fresh burst of pre-come. “Stiles, your _mouth,”_ Derek groaned.

Stiles hooked his thumbs on Derek’s underwear and pulled them down, Derek’s cock bobbing almost flush with his stomach. “Have I ever told you how much I love your dick?” Stiles murmured as he wrapped a hand around the base of Derek’s cock, licked up the side of it.

Derek threw his head back as Stiles’ lips wrap around the head. “More.” Stiles chuckled, his mouth still around Derek’s cock, the vibrations nearly making his legs give out. He opened his mouth wider and took in more of Derek’s cock and swallowed once, twice, pulled off to lap at the slit, slide down to mouth at Derek's balls.

He didn’t last much longer after that. “Stiles, I’m gonna—” Derek warned him but Stiles just dug his fingers into Derek’s thighs to hold him in place. Derek came down his throat with a broken moan and Christ, Stiles' mouth was absolutely _wrecked_.

A few drops of cum slipped past Stiles’ lips. He chased them with his fingers, stuck them in his mouth. “Fuck, how is it you taste better every day,” he mumbled mostly to himself. Derek hauled him up and Stiles pressed him back into the lockers, let Derek lick his way into his mouth.

They heard a choked noise behind them.

Their entire lunch crew— minus Boyd because he wasn’t a creeper— was staring, slack jawed and blushing. Jackson seemed to be the source of the noise. “We, I, uh, I needed to change m-my feet,” he stuttered.

“I, uh, forgot to grab my textbook when I came in uh, earlier and uh, they all _offered_ to accompany me,” Scott explained with an apologetic grimace.

“Well, I, for one, am not sorry,” Lydia stated. “It was a damn good show, right, Danny?”

“Damn good,” Danny echoed dazedly. “I mean, what? No, I wasn’t watching— that would just be— wrong.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Stiles looked at them all in amused exasperation. “Well?”

“What?” Lydia asked defensively, eyes snapping away from—

“Ohmigod, are you— Stop looking at my boyfriend’s dick!” Several pairs of eyes jump to his, guiltily and he stepped in front of Derek to block their view. “Get the fuck out! Bunch of perverts!” They obliged, running out of the room giggling.

“Well, at least now we know that Stiles wasn’t lying about Derek being bigger than Jackson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log Jan 4th 3:35 P.M. I took what I like to call a ‘NyQuil Nap.’ For about six hours. It’s easy. All you have to do is keep a bottle of NyQuil on hand (or in my case several) and drink every time you wake up (Not recommended, my internal organs are pretty much dead)
> 
> Avoidance tactic #22: Figured out that I went to the movies 47 times last year. Which is nine more than 2011. Five of those times were Avengers. 
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 4th 5:34 P.M. For some reason I identified with this line from ‘Wounded Eyes’ by Eye Emma Jedi (New favorite btw, the band and the song) on a spiritual level: I found a cure for my disease; a common cold brought me to my knees
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 7th 2:25 A.M. HP marathon at Cheese’s, what _whaaat_
> 
> Avoidance Tactic #38: Haven’t touched my guitar in weeks. Guess what I’ve just spent the last two hours playing
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 15th 9:50 A.M. SO, totally not my fault I haven’t been working on this. You see, what had happened was… I am a good person and I take my dumbass friend’s iPods even when I _know_ they’re infected and I fix them and give them good music but then my computer crashes and I cry.
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 16th 9:24 P.M. My father is walking around the house singing to a piece of pie. It is a love song.
> 
> Sometimes, I word things really awkwardly and I leave it there because I can’t think of anything better. But when I do, I go back and change it when no one’s looking :)


	10. Under Your Skin Feels Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I briefly considered naming this chapter ‘Why Don’t You Have Some Dirty Hot Sex With Me’ because of Pepper’s ‘Give It Up’
> 
> Title taken from 'You're All I Have' by Snow Patrol
> 
> Soo, in case you’re wondering why this took so long getting up, uhh, I really have no excuse. I got out a chapter for each of my fics within a few days from each other and I was feeling very accomplished so I let myself take a wee break which turned into a week and then almost two and then, Oh shit, I totes forgot that I was in the middle of something. MY BAD BITCHES
> 
> Forgive me! The end is nigh!
> 
> Also, it’s still the fourth of February somewhere.
> 
> P.S. Never, ever, EVER listen to me when I give you specific dates for updates. I am a lying liar who lies! *Sobs* I'm so ashamed
> 
> You guys never tell me when I make mistakes. It's so sad

“What are you getting all dolled up for,” Laura asked. She’d just barged into Derek’s room and made herself comfortable on his bed, watching idly as he frantically went through all of his clothes and tried to find something suitable to wear.

“Uhh, I‘ve got a thing. With Stiles,” he mumbled, face flushing.

“A thing, huh?” She eyed him speculatively. Derek cringed, waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions. “Well, have fun! Oh, and don’t wear that one.” She waved at the shirt he had in his hands dismissively. “Wear the grey henley.” Derek grabbed the shirt from the pile on his bed and held it up. “Yeah, that one,” she gave him a fond smile and left.

Derek stared after her in confusion before shaking his head and going back to getting ready for his first date.

-

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, do they honestly think we don’t know?” Gabe muttered to Em exasperatedly after Derek had blushingly ran out the front door, waving spastically and mumbling some nonsense about a ‘food thing’ and ‘Stiles.’

The Alpha smirked, “They’ll tell us when they’re ready, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, but pretending not to notice the stench of their mingled, teenage cum—” Arthur choked violently, face contorting and turning bright red, “—is _killing_ me,” Sam grumbled, absently rubbing his stomach. “It’s not like everyone didn’t see it coming from the first day.”

Peter nodded in agreement, “Even _Arthur_ saw it and we all know he’s not exactly the brightest.”

 _“Hey!”_ Arthur flung his steak knife at Peter’s head.

Peter deftly caught it without blinking and went on as if uninterrupted, “Must we really wait to commence the humiliation until after they’ve told us?”

Em looked at him in amusement, “Yes. And if you ‘commence’ before then, I will end you,” she said, baring her teeth. Peter slouched in his chair and pouted.

Gabe grinned, “Anyone interested in making a little bet?”

-

Stiles picked him up about a mile from his house, getting out of his jeep and running around to open up Derek’s door for him, smirking widely when he said, “M'lady,” and coming up short when he got a good look at Derek. His eyes lingered on Derek’s arms and chest.

Derek would have to thank Laura at some later point in time. Perhaps on her deathbed.

Stiles shook his head, “You look… fucking delectable if I’m going to be perfectly honest. Which I might as well be, not like you can’t smell it on me, eh, Wolf Boy?”

Derek just rolled his eyes to hide a smile and leaned in to kiss Stiles until he was all flushed and breathless and hanging on to the door for support. Derek climbed in the jeep with a self-satisfied smile.

“Smug bastard,” Stiles stumbled back to his side, red-faced and grinning.

“You’re looking pretty good yourself.” And he really was. Not that he didn’t always look good to Derek, but tonight he was looking _especially_ good, wearing a tight pair of dark jeans that made his ass look fantastic and an equally tight t-shirt that showed off his defined arms and Christ, Derek was already having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

Stiles flushed and Derek heard his heart stutter and start pounding double time, “Oh, th-thanks.”

It was too small of a space for Stiles to be that aroused without Derek being able to tell and they weren’t going to make their date if he didn’t distract him. “So, uh, where are we going?” The question seemed to snap Stiles out of his haze.

“Uhh, that new sushi place?” Stiles said, his voice uncertain. “That’s okay, right?”

“Of course, but isn’t it a little… I mean, you don’t have to take me any place fancy,” Derek mumbled.

“Nothing’s too good for my girl,” Stiles chuckled, catching Derek’s hand before he could jab him in the arm and pressed a light kiss across his knuckles.

There may or may not have been some hand holding over the gearshift on the way to the restaurant.

Stiles lost his first-date jitters somewhere between the miso soup and the fourth roll of sushi. He was excitedly chattering about his English project, his feet comfortably tangled with Derek’s beneath the table and all Derek could think of was that it was only their first date and he already knew he wanted this forever.

The thought scared him a little; they were _teenagers_ for Christ’s sake. How could he possibly know he wanted Stiles forever? But he did and he was worryingly comfortable with it, almost as if he’d accepted his fate a long time ago.

He didn’t know if Stiles was on the same page as him yet, but Derek would wait for him to catch up. He had a feeling he’d wait for forever if Stiles needed him to.

Stiles was staring back at him with an amused smile, “I have something on my face or…?”

Derek bit back a grin and shrugged nonchalantly, “Nah. Just your face. Can’t do anything about that.”

“You love my face, you dick!” Derek tightened his legs around Stiles’ when he tried to pull back to kick him. “You can’t use your super-strength, it’s cheating!”

“I would like to renegotiate our contract,” Derek said solemnly.

“I’m not renegotiating shit.”

Derek looked him over slowly until Stiles was fidgeting in his seat and Derek could smell the arousal coming off him. Stiles really was too easy. He smirked, “You sure about that?”

Stiles buried his face in his hands and groaned, “You’re such a _dick.”_

“Ass.” But it came out fond as always.

Stiles peeked at him through his fingers, “Wanna get out of here?”

Derek smiled, “I thought you’d never ask.”

-

They went to watch a movie. Well, they _paid_ to watch a movie. They really just ended up making out in the back of a nearly empty theater while some film neither of them were much interested in played. The elderly man working the door had to fetch them when they didn’t come out once the movie was done, but he was nice about it, giving them a kind smile and shooing them good-naturedly from the theater.

The drive home was comfortable. Stiles immediately reached for Derek’s hand across the seat and was running his thumb over Derek’s knuckles absently. Derek was glad for the dark hiding what was probably a dorky, besotted smile plastered across his face.

“Oh, shit, I didn’t even ask you if you were going home,” Stiles said once he parked in his own drive. “I can take you home, I didn’t mean to just assume that you were coming home with—” Derek got out of the jeep and walked around to open Stiles’ door. “What are you doing? The door-opening is _my_ job!”

Derek took his hand tugged him lightly out of the car, “I’m walking you to your door.”

Stiles laughed nervously, “L-like a proper first date. That’s— that— Ohmigod, why am I so nervous? It’s not like I haven’t kissed you before. This just feels like so much more…”

“More what?”

“Fucking filter is taking a break again,” Stiles grumbled.

“I like it when you speak without your filter.”

Stiles stared at him, eyes huge. He ran his fingers through his hair and chuckled weakly, “You didn’t use to. It annoyed the shit out of you when we were kids.”

Derek sighed, “You really are naïve.”

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, you sure know how to sweet talk a—”

Derek captured Stiles’ still-working mouth with his own and Stiles was right. This kiss was so much _more_.

He came back to himself God knows how long later, with Stiles’ hands wrapped up in his shirt and Derek pressing him into the door, hands keeping Stiles’ legs in place where Derek had hitched them around his waist while he rolled his hips up into Stiles’ and shit, he was seconds from dry-fucking Stiles on the front porch.

He didn’t even care.

Stiles pulled back to look at him, “Derek?”

“Yeah?”

Stiles hands were twitching where they were gripping the collar of his shirt, “Y’know how I said I wasn’t going to give it up on the first date?”

Derek’s brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

“I lied.”

Derek’s dick twitched at that and judging by the sound Stiles’ let out, he'd felt it. “Oh, I totally lied, Derek. I needed you to fuck me like five minutes ago.”

Derek’s heart slammed in his ribcage,“Keys, Stiles give me your keys.”

“I don’t— Uhm, let me down and I’ll—”

“No.” No way was Derek putting him down.

“Shit, that should not be so hot. Uhh, right— no, left pocket.” Derek found the keys and then ignored them in favor of stroking Stiles’ achingly hard cock through his jeans. Stiles’ fingers twisted in his shirt, “Not my keys, Der,” he squeaked.

“You don’t say,” Derek dipped in to mouth at his jaw, lick at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

“Bed, Derek. I need a bed and I need you to fuck me on that bed. Preferably many, many times. Several times in a row. In several different positions. I’ve got lube and condoms, but I don’t really want to use them, you don’t mind, do you—”

“No condoms,” Derek growled. He wanted to feel Stiles bare.

“Fuck, yes, no condoms,” Stiles nodded vigorously. “Oh, God. What does that say about me,” he mumbled to himself, filter probably taking another break.

“Hmm?” Derek grunted, finally pulling the keys out and shoving them into the lock.

“That I find it ridiculously hot when you get all wolf-y on me.”

Derek smiled against his neck, “You have good taste.”

Stiles laughed, the sound breathless and low and sending shivers down Derek’s spine. He licked into Derek’s mouth, pulled off when they were gasping and desperate, “Excellent taste,” Stiles murmured.

Derek wasn’t sure if he closed the front door, didn’t even care if he hadn’t because he had Stiles alone and on a bed and he was going to have sex with him.

Stiles started fumbling with the hem of his shirt. Derek covered his hands with his own, “Don’t. I want to,” and Stiles let him, let him strip his clothes off and run his hands down pale skin, trace freckles and moles until could feel Stiles trembling beneath his fingertips, eyes shut and mouth wide. Let him run his hands along the curve of his back and down his thighs. “Beautiful.”

 _“Derek,”_ Stiles pulled him up and kissed him, his legs stretched around Derek’s waist, the space feeling as if it were made just for Derek. The kiss became dirtier, sloppy almost with just a hint of teeth and a lot of tongue and Stiles was shaking and making desperate noises beneath him or maybe that was Derek and then Stiles was straddling him, grinding down on Derek’s cock frantically, “I need— _please_ , just fuck me, Derek, please,” as if Derek were trying to stop him, as if he _wanted_ to.

“Where’s the—” Stiles reached blindly for the top drawer of his nightstand, the stretch rubbing their erections together in a way that had them both groaning. Derek’s hands shook when he took the bottle from Stiles, “How do you—”

“On my back. I want to see your face when you’re stretching me open around your cock.”

“Oh _fuck.”_ Derek had to clutch at his dick to keep from coming in his pants. Stiles said it like anyone else would say, the sky is blue, the grass is green, I want your cock. (One of these things is not like the others, ~~one of these things is gay~~ )

Stiles tugged at his shirt, “I do believe the ‘no clothes’ thing was your rule.”

Derek grinned sheepishly, “Got distracted by all of that pretty s-skin.” Stiles slipped his hand under his shirt while he was talking and stroked his fingers across Derek’s stomach leisurely, made Derek shake and stutter.

“Pretty? No. Glorious? Yes.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows, smacked Derek’s hands out of the way when he tried to pull his shirt up. _“I’ll_ undress you.” Derek rolled his eyes at having his own words thrown back at him, but allowed it. Stiles got distracted as soon as he got his hands on Derek’s chest. “Fuck. You are _so_ worth the embarrassment I had to endure buying that lube from Meryl.”

“She’s still a-alive— _fuckinghell,”_ Stiles had leaned in and taken one of Derek’s nipples in his mouth and bit down on it. Derek could feel his eyes glowing, felt his teeth growing in his mouth and he started panicking, but then Stiles fucking whimpered and kissed him and rocked down on his hips and he could feeltastesmell that his wolf coming out in bed didn’t bother Stiles in the _least._ He did his best to rein it in anyways; he really didn’t want to hurt Stiles.

“Yeah, she is.”

“What is she? A hundred and two?” Talking was helping him regain control of himself.

“I’m pretty sure she’s not human,” Stiles said seriously. “You should’ve seen the look she gave me while I was paying. I swear she called Mrs. Robertson before I had even turned to leave.”

Derek laughed, “Wouldn’t surprise me.” He rolled them over and gave a few tugs on Stiles’ leaking cock, “Now, if we’re done talking about gossipy old ladies…” He uncapped the lube and dripped some onto his fingers and pulled Stiles ass apart. He was trying to be smooth about it, but he ended up staring at the little pink hole with his mouth open, practically drooling all over himself.

Stiles huffed at him in annoyance. “Are you just going to stare or are you—” he nearly sobbed when he felt a tentative finger circling his asshole, teasing and probing.

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you, won’t you?” Derek asked worriedly.

Stiles wiggled his ass, trying to get Derek’s finger inside him, “Yes, just don’t stop _touching_ me, _fuck—”_

“I want to watch you fuck yourself on my fingers,” Derek blurted. “Ohmigod, I can’t believe I sa—”

“How ‘bout next round? Right now, I just want to come while I’m on your cock.” Stiles was looking at him, eager and unashamed. He had no problem articulating just how much he wanted Derek and if he wasn’t holding back then Derek wasn’t going to either.

Derek went back to running his finger against him and licked his lips, “Do you wanna ride me or are we saving that for next round, too? We probably won’t even need any lube after I fuck you. You’ll be all stretched out and loose and filled up with my cum.” Stiles moaned and Derek finally, _finally_ pushed into his hole.

“Stop te-teasing me, fucker,” Stiles stammered.

Derek smirked down at him and stilled his hand, “Show me how much you want it, Stiles.” He was only messing with him, but Stiles’ eyes narrowed and he reached down and held Derek’s hand in place while he rocked down on his finger, making sounds that went straight to Derek’s cock. _“Fuck,_ Stiles.”

“If you’re not going to take care of this then I’ll do it myself,” Stiles groaned, ran his hand up his chest, down his stomach, not going near his dick. “I could use another finger or three, though. _If_ you’re up for it,” he taunted.

“Cheeky little shit,” Derek muttered, he nudged Stiles’ hands out of the way and pulled his finger out, pushed two back in and Stiles took them so perfectly. He threw his head back and let Derek fingerfuck him, his eyes screwed up and teeth chewing on his lower lip. “What are you concentrating so hard on?”

“Trying not to come,” Stiles grit out.

“Just come, Stiles. I’m pretty sure I can get you hard again in no time.” It wasn’t cockiness if it was true.

“No.” Derek spread his fingers, trying to stretch Stiles out a bit more. Okay, more like trying to find his prostate and force him to come. “Ohmig—” Stiles’ eyes flew open and he glared at Derek, shuddering, “Give me another one,” he demanded.

Derek’s brow furrowed, “I’m not sure you’re ready—”

“Give me another one,” Stiles repeated. “I need you to put your cock in my ass like, _now_ , but I can’t take it unless you give me another. Fucking. Finger. Derek.”

“So bossy,” Derek muttered, but he obeyed, pouring more lube over his fingers. His cock was painfully hard against his stomach, knowing that Stiles wanted him _that_ much. But no matter what Stiles said or what Derek’s dick wanted, Stiles needed to be properly prepared if he wanted Derek to fuck him again anytime soon.

Stiles face went slack when Derek pushed the third finger in, his muscles relaxing, _“Oh.”_

And then he came all over himself.

Derek grinned and Stiles threw his hands over his face, “Stop _smiling,_ you bastard! You have no to right to look so fucking adorable when I expressly said that I _didn’t_ want to come yet!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just I’ve never seen you make such a disgruntled face after coming,” Derek tried to stop laughing.

“Har har,” Stiles grumbled, groaning when Derek worked his pinky into him besides the first three fingers, “Fuck _me.”_

“That _is_ the idea.”

“I’ve had enough of you and your sarcasm,” Stiles said weakly.

Derek curled his fingers, made Stiles moan and his dick twitch hopefully, “Have you?”

“Have I _what?”_

“Had enough.” And Derek meant it lightly, but it came out more serious than intended.

Stiles smiled, a soft, genuine thing that knocked the air from Derek's lungs, made him want to get on his knees and pledge fealty, offer his wolf, offer his life. “Never.”

Derek didn’t know who moved where, but suddenly their mouths were crashing together and Stiles’ hand was wrapped around his cock and lining him up and Derek tried not to shove into him, but the choice was taken from him when Stiles curled his free hand on his hip and _pulled_ him forward and _fuck_.

Stiles’ hands, his mouth were amazing. But this, this was— unbelievable. Perfect. Bliss. Heaven. _Relief_. Derek felt as if he’d been in pain, constant, unyielding pain that had vanished as soon as he had Stiles around him.

And then Stiles started talking and ruined the romance of the moment, “Jesus, your cock’s so fucking good, Ohmigod, even better than your fingers. You gonna fuck me into the mattress, Der? Leave me aching and loose like you said you would? Fuck, babe, I can’t wait ‘til I can show you how good this is, I’m gonna fuck you ‘til your legs are _shaking,”_ Stiles cursed as Derek started fucking into him in earnest, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming frantic, “Right th-there, G- _od.”_

Derek knocked Stiles’ hand away from his cock with a growl. _“Mine.”_ Oh, God— what the hell?

He started to apologize but then Stiles came again, his ass clenching around Derek’s cock and pulling Derek over the edge with him, his arms giving out as his orgasm rocked through him. He fell on top of Stiles gracelessly and Stiles just made this pleased, contented noise and stroked a hand down his back, waiting for him to stop coming.

Except he didn’t.

In fact, the base of his cock was expanding and he was still painting Stiles’ insides.

_Shiiit._

Stiles stiffened. “Uhm, sorry but what the _hell_ is _that?”_

“’s my knot,” Derek forced out, groaning helplessly as he tried to keep still. It felt so fucking good.

Stiles was quiet for a second. “Werewolf thing?” Derek grunted his assent. “What’s it for?”

Derek thunked his head against his shoulder. “Not telling.”

“Derek, your extremely swollen dick is in my ass. You fucking tell me right the fuck now.”

A very good point. “My wolf’s tryna breed you.”

Stiles gaped. “But I’m human! I can’t get pregnant!”

“My wolf doesn’t really care too much about that. He’s perfectly content just trying.”

His dick was still growing and it was getting harder to not move. He gave a completely involuntary thrust and Stiles hissed beneath him. “Don’t fucking move, Derek, that shit fucking _hurts.”_

“I’m sorry, I’m trying not to,” Derek moaned.

“Can’t you pull it out?”

“Uhh.”

“Derek. Answer the question.”

“-mayormaynothavetostaylikethisforhalfanhourorso,” Derek quickly mumbled.

“What was that,” Stiles asked flatly.

Derek sighed and repeated himself, “We may or may not have to stay like this for half an hour or so.”

“Half an _hour?”_

“Minimum,” Derek whispered.

 _“Minimum?!_ Why the _fuck_ didn’t you tell me about this?!”

“I didn’t know it was going to happen!”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Derek Hale!”

“I’m serious! It’s not supposed to happen unless—”

Stiles stared at him, eyes narrowed, “Unless _what?”_

“Uhh.”

“Derek,” Stiles warned.

“Oh, look! I think my dick stopped growing!” Derek laughed nervously. Stiles started glaring at him again. “Maybe I can—” He stuck his tongue between his teeth and gently pulled back and yeah, no. That wasn’t happening.

“Oh, _oh_ I take back anything negative I may have said about your extremely swollen dick, oh my god, just keep doing _that,”_ Stiles moaned.

Derek happily obliged.

He wasn’t able to manage more than a few shallow thrusts before he started coming again. “Fuuuuck, that much cum should be gross but goddamn, it’s kind of un-fucking-believably hot.” Derek laughed at that, all loose and still riding the post-orgasmic high.

Stiles watched Derek dip his hand to scoop up some of the cum leaking from around his cock and drag it to Stiles’ stomach, rubbing their combined spunk into his skin. “Pretty sure that’s not meant to be moisturizer, babe,” he said lazily, tugging lightly on Derek’s hair.

Derek buried his face into Stiles’ shoulder, the tips of his ears bright pink. “I’m sorry, it’s just you smell so good like this,” Derek groaned. You smell like _mine_ , is what Derek didn’t say.

Stiles’ eyes darkened, “Don’t be. I kinda like it.” His cock, spent from coming twice in such a short period of time, was twitching feebly where it lay against his stomach.

Derek kissed him, slow and deep, “We should sleep.”

“But I wanna have sex again. I was promised a second round,” Stiles pouted.

“I’m not going anywhere, Stiles,” Derek reminded him wryly, glancing down towards where they were locked together.

Stiles grinned sheepishly, “Almost forgot.”

Derek rolled his eyes, pressed another kiss to his jaw, “Night, Stiles.”

Stiles jiggled experimentally, the movement making Derek growl, “Sorry, sorry, was just uh, yeah. Night, Derek,” he chuckled.

Derek shut his eyes again.

Until Stiles started cracking up out of nowhere.

“Ohmigod,” he gasped. “I just got that ‘Now Stiles is gonna think we were raised by a pack of wolves,’ comment Gabe made,” he laughed.

Derek stared at him judgmentally. “Stiles, that was literally five years ago,” he said slowly.

Which, of course, only served to make Stiles laugh harder, tears streaming as he giggled.

Derek loved seeing Stiles laugh, loved knowing that he was happy. And knowing that he was the one that was making Stiles happy made him feel warm and content. Things were perfect. So, naturally he had to go and say, “Fuck, I love you,” and _shit._

Stiles’ eyes were huge and hopeful, “Really?”

And how could Derek say no to that? “Really. I really fucking love you, Stiles.”

Stiles leaned up and kissed him with renewed fervor, “I fucking love you, too,” and yeah, their declarations of love probably included more cursing than normal, but Stiles’ heart was steady the entire time.

Well, it was steady until they started round two.

-

Sex was the best thing ever. Stiles didn’t know why it had taken them so long to start having sex. Sex was beautiful.

He and Derek have had sex on nearly every surface of his home, the table, the counter, the floor in the living room, the shower, the washing machine, the couch. Stiles was almost sorry for that last one. There was now a rather large stain that wouldn’t come out no matter how hard he scrubbed it.

Stiles was eternally grateful for whatever case his father was working that required him to be elsewhere all weekend. Sex with Derek was his favorite thing ever.

“Stiles,” Derek said, breathless when Stiles palmed his ass.

“Hmm,” Stiles grunted in response, unconcerned. One of his hands left Derek, and he saw Stiles suck one of his fingers into his mouth.

“Stiles?” Derek repeated confusedly as the man in question pulled Derek’s cheeks apart. His legs nearly gave out when he felt a finger curiously touching his hole, leaving him clinging to Stiles’ shoulders for support. He made a broken noise in the back of his throat as Stiles let the tip of his finger slip inside of him.

“You like that, baby?” Stiles murmured, and normally, normally Derek would have called him out on the stupid endearment but Stiles was staring down at him, his pupils blown and mouth parted as if he were hanging on Derek’s every twitch, every shudder that racked through him and Derek couldn’t think of a single snarky response.

“Yes,” Derek choked, Stiles pushed the digit in further, moving excruciatingly slow. He tried to push back on the finger but Stiles stilled him with a hand on his hip. His legs trembled as Stiles teased him. His cock twitched against his stomach, once more fully hard. He would've thought it impossible; Stiles had just sucked him off a few minutes before.

Stiles withdrew his finger and no, not good. _“Stiles,”_ Derek complained. Stiles slicked up his other fingers with his spit, smirking at Derek knowingly the whole time, the little fucker. He stroked Derek’s side soothingly as he moved his finger back into place. Derek shuddered, “More,” he pleaded, pride be damned. “Stiles, more.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Stiles breathed. “Christ, you want it, don’t you? You want me to fuck you?” he said, adding another finger and applying more pressure.

“Yes, _please_ , Stiles,” Derek said, trying again to grind down on the fingers. He was making desperate noises, Stiles nearly choked on his drool.

“You ever touched yourself like this before?”

Derek shook his head.

“I did this a few times before we got together,” Stiles admitted, breath tickling Derek’s ear making him shiver and twitch. “I pretended it was you spreading me open every time.”

“Hnng,” Derek did not manage, like at all. Stiles was pretty sure that was actually meant to be words. Derek had lost his words. Stiles had struck him speechless.

Yeah, sex with Derek was definitely the best thing ever.

-

Derek was almost positive he was dating Satan.

Stiles had decided to wear Derek’s clothes to school. Because he was pure evil. Stiles knew that walking around in his clothes smelling like him, like _them_ , drove Derek crazy, made him want to drag Stiles into random classrooms and bathroom stalls for a quick fuck between classes.

He was having trouble keeping his distance, walking even closer to Stiles than normal, their arms glued together, hands brushing and fingers occasionally tangling.

Derek was focusing hard on not jumping him when he felt Stiles stiffen next to him.

“That’s a nice shirt, Stilinski. Though, it doesn’t look like it’s quite your size.” That Matt kid was standing in front of them, looking between the two of them with a nasty smile.

“Very astute, Matthew,” Stiles simpered. “Such intelligence wasted on this poor excuse of a high school. Why not go on to someplace more suited to your intellectual brilliance? Say, a nice school in Hell?”

Matt leveled him a dirty look and turned his attention to Derek. “Hale. How are you, _pal?”_ his tone making it clear that the casual endearment was anything but. “How’s the love life? Haven’t seen you around with anyone but Stilinski, here. Some might see that as odd. _Queer_ even.”

“Matt,” Stiles warned.

Matt turned on him, “What? I can’t ask the resident freak a few friendly questions?”

Where Stiles had kept his calm all those years before, he certainly didn’t now. “You’d better shut your fucking mouth, before I shut it for you.” Derek was torn between just letting Stiles deal with Matt and stopping him from doing anything that could potentially result in his suspension.

Matt sneered, “Oh, yeah? And how are you planning on doing that?”

Stiles gave him a look like, _how much of a moron can you be?_ “With my _fist_ , you dumbfuck.”

If Stiles got suspended, Derek would have to wait until after school to see him. That’s nearly eight fucking hours.

He put a hand on Stiles’ arm and shook his head. Stiles deflated a bit before turning back to Matt, “You’ll apologize and keep away from Derek or I will cheerfully beat the shit out of you in front of all these people.”

“My apologies. I’m sorry if I insulted your _boyfriend_ , Stilinski,” Matt said loudly. Eyes turned towards them from all directions.

Derek was going to hurt Matt.

He didn’t care if everyone knew that Stiles was his boyfriend. He wanted that. He wanted to be able to hold Stiles’ hand on the way to class and kiss him goodbye and hello and go to prom with him and let everyone know that Stiles was _his_.

But he didn’t want it to happen if Stiles wasn’t ready.

Stiles laced his fingers through Derek’s. “Apology accepted.” Matt gaped at them disbelievingly and Stiles just smiled smugly in return, “I catch you talking to my boyfriend like that again, I’ll make good on that threat.” He turned to Derek, “Ready to go to class, babe?”

Derek stared at him, eyes wide. Stiles started looking a bit nervous, “Uh, class?”

And Derek kinda hauled him forward and made out with him in the middle of the hall. His… _enthusiasm_ was probably verging on inappropriate. The kiss left both their pants uncomfortably tight.

Stiles was bright red and wearing a silly grin when Derek finally released him. He spotted Scott and Lydia down the hall, Scott smiling dopily at their antics, Lydia looking pleased and a little flushed.

“Let’s get out of here?” Derek suggested, holding out his hand.

Stiles grabbed it without hesitation, “Yes, please.”

-

The next day, news of their impending nuptials have spread throughout the school. Even some members of the faculty had caught wind of it.

His teacher was doing roll call, “Garcia? No Garcia.” He jotted a note down on his clipboard. “Hale?”

“Here,” Derek answered without looking up from his phone. Stiles was live-texting the conversation he was currently having with Scott about which superhero was best. Stiles chose Batman, of course, and Scott was arguing Superman (“Who's the leader of the Justice League, Stiles?” — “That's the only argument you have!”— “It's the only argument I _need!)._

Riveting stuff.

Finstock stopped in front of his desk, “Hale.”

“Yeah, Coach?” because Finstock made everyone call him coach, even if they weren’t on the lacrosse team.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“You’re going to marry—” his face screwed up, and here it comes. Derek was not going to punch a teacher in the face. He wasn’t. “—Bilinski?” Really? Your last name’s gonna be _Bilinski?_ Just think of the children!”

Derek blinked. Oh.

Wait, what? “Uh, Coach, his name isn’t—”

“I’m serious, Hale. A name like that will cost you a fortune in child therapy.”

“I don’t think—”

“My advice? Make him take _your_ last name. Much more sensible than _Bilinski.”_

Derek laughed. “You’re completely right, Coach. Bilinski is a ridiculous last name.”

“I know, poor Biles has probably had a tough time of it,” Coach shook his head sadly. “Anyways, back to the lesson…”

-

School was out for the day and they were making their way to Stiles’ jeep when Derek remembered to ask him, “Oh, yeah. Why the hell does Finstock think your name is _Bilinski?”_

Stiles laughed and shook his head, “I honestly don’t know. He started calling me that one day and I just went with it. How’d you hear about that?”

“He was adamant that I not become the future-Mrs. Bilinski.”

Stiles frowned a little at that. “Oh?”

Derek swooped in and kissed the frown from his face. “Yeah. Apparently Biles Hale sounds better than Derek Bilinski.”

Stiles giggled, “I dunno, I kinda like Derek Bilinski.”

Derek laughed and opened his mouth to reply— but felt the back of his neck tingling. He lifted his head, instinctively scenting the air. 

“Stiles, why has your dad been working a lot this week?” Derek asked slowly.

“Huh? Oh, there was a body.” Stiles continued, not noticing how Derek had frozen up where he stood, “It was in the one of the empty warehouses by the old train depot.”

Oh, shit.

There was another werewolf in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log Jan 25th 7:17 P.M. I’m visiting my sister and it’s my first time at her new place and oh god she totally lives next to a drug lord I shit you not, he’s scary as shit he keeps calling my sister’s bf ‘white boy’ with this really scary expression and he’s white too so I don’t really get it
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 25th 8:12 P.M. We are now drinking and watching Pitch Perfect, yayyy
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 25th 9:28 P.M. My sister is a horrible person. Me and her bf ran out of booze and she refused to drive us to Safeway to get more so we were forced to walk through her scary as shit neighborhood in the middle of the fucking night. I could’ve _died_.
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 25th 11:54 P.M. People are always really nice when I go around town intoxicated
> 
> Captain’s Log Jan 26th 2:38 A.M. Note to self: Drinking eight bottles of beer and some fire whiskey in a one-hour period can sometimes result in the body aches. My nose is even hurting Ohmigod worst idea ever
> 
> Captain’s Log Feb 1st 2:21 A.M. I take back every single time I have previously said, ‘this is the worst day of my life.’ This is officially the worst day of my life. Don’t- just don’t. Ask. Ever. Okay ugh asdfl;jdfs Talk about a shit-storm omg lolol
> 
> Captain’s Log Feb 3rd 6:16 P.M. A FALLING STAR FELL FROM YOUR HEART AND LANDED IN MY EYES! Fuck you Florence, you beautiful bitch. I love you so much have my babies
> 
> Captain’s Log Feb 4th 10:38 P.M. Sometimes when I’m writing, I randomly remember that scene where Becky Rosen from SPN is writing a Sam/Dean fic and then I start laughing like a mad woman. That shit was hilarious


	11. With the Wild Wolves Around You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a randomly long and plot-filled chapter in a series of plot-less fluffiness.  
> Oh, and unfortunately I wrote like, way too much so I had to break it up idek
> 
> So yeah, ignore that first line, because I'm an idiot. :D I usually do my notes and shiznit before I post the final cut of the chapter which is why they sometimes make absolutely no sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from 'The Wolves (Act I and II)' by Bon Iver
> 
> Hello, lovelies. I’ve missed you all much! I’m sorry for the delay; I’ve been a bit ill. And lazy. But mostly ill. (Insert demented smile here)  
> I’m not crazy I’m just a little unwell
> 
> So, in case you didn’t get the memo: I finished my other fic. Feel free to go read it and tell me how amazing I am
> 
> The soundtrack to this chapter was ‘Blue Ocean Floor’ by Justin Timberlake. Shut up. I love me some JT Oh, and then it was ‘Wild Horses’ by the Sundays and ‘Should You Return’ by Copeland. In case you haven’t already guessed, yes, I’m a wee bit depressed. Thank you for noticing.
> 
> Just a note: anything that is confusing in this chapter will most likely be explained in the next chapter so hold off on the yelling, kay? feel free to ask questions though. Next chapter will be up soon. (HA) And no, it will not all be as horribly drab as this (Drab as in minimal fluff *sob*)

He got the call outside of the precinct.

 _“Arthur.”_  The word was strained and harsh, like Em was trying to speak around a mouthful of fangs. (Which meant that something had probably happened. Something big enough to make his wife lose control of the shift.)

Arthur’s blood ran cold.

Not the pups, please, not Sam or Rose with the babies, or Gabe— well, maybe Gabe. The brother-fucking traitor, but definitely not the pups—

_“Arthur!”_

“Yeah, sorry, what is it, Em?” Arthur managed. Peter’s head swiveled towards him and his eyes narrow as he takes in Arthur’s sudden tension, the pallor of his face.

_“They’ve got them.”_

“Got _who,_ Em,” Arthur ground out.

 _“Stiles. They’ve got Stiles and Derek.”_ Arthur’s shoulders slumped. So, not the pups he’d been worrying about. Just _his_ pups. Peter’s relief was palpable, though there was still great deal of worry and anger left there. It wasn’t his mate, wasn’t his pups, but it was Pack.

Peter stiffened beside him, head tilting. “John’s coming.”

“Em,” Arthur panicked.

_“I heard,” Em sighed._

“What do I _do?”_ he asked even though he already knew what had to happen next and fuck, he wasn’t equipped for this kind of thing.

_“It’s time. Tell him.”_

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. He really wished that Em was here to help. He didn’t think that the sheriff would try to shoot them, but there was always the possibility and getting shot really wasn’t the most pleasant experience—

Peter rolled his eyes and snatched the phone from Arthur’s hand. “We’ll take care of it. I assume you’ve found out where they’re keeping them?”

 _Em scoffed. “Of course,_ little brother _. A warehouse near the abandoned train station.”_

Peter’s brow quirked in surprise. “The same place the other one left the body? A bold move.”

_“Or a stupid one,” Em growled._

“I often find the two are synonymous.” John was a few yards away now. “We’ll meet you there.”

_“Fifteen minutes.”_

“Fifteen minutes,” Peter agreed, ending the call and handing the phone back to Arthur. Peter took in the sight of Arthur wringing his hands and dancing from foot to foot, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “Dunce.”

Arthur opened his mouth to tell Peter to fuck off, but John was too close now. He’d get him back later.

If they all survived.

“How’s it going, fellas?” John smiled broadly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Peter tipped his head and gave the sheriff a tight smile in response. “John.”

“Hey, John.” Arthur worked to keep his voice neutral, but it just came out tired.

Peter gestured for him to proceed.

Dick.

Arthur steeled himself. “We’ve got some… news.”

“We’re going to need you to come with us,” Peter added.

John’s smile faltered a bit before realization seemed to dawn. “Oh! Were we supposed to go out for drinks tonight? We can take the cruiser, c’mon.” John said cheerfully.

Arthur and Peter exchanged a look before following John to his patrol car. John chuckled when they dashed the last few yards shoving at each other, trying to get the front seat.

Arthur won by tripping his brother-in-law and hopped in the passenger’s side, fist pumping because he was a beacon of maturity.

John shook his head, a fond grin spread across his face.

Peter scowled as he dusted himself off and climbed into the backseat. Arthur maneuvered around and snapped a couple pictures of Peter behind the metal grate, singing, “Give us a smile, brother!”

Peter was showing off his middle finger in the last few pictures.

“So, what’ve you decided to call baby number five?” John asked Peter.

“Morgana. Or maybe Annael,” Peter replied, immediately distracted. “We haven’t decided ye—”

Arthur interrupted, “That’s not why we’re here,” he shot Peter a significant look in the rearview mirror.

John noted the change in tone and studied them both. “What’s going on?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “It has to do with that case you’re working on.”

John’s confusion grew. “The Argent case?”

“Yes. It-”

“Take us to the place they found her,” Peter cut in. “We’ll explain on the way.”

-

“Wakey, wakey,” a cheerful(ly demented) voice sang in his ear. A warm hand shot out of the darkness and gripped his face tightly, the unnaturally sharp tips of the woman’s fingernails digging into his skin. Stiles was proud for not pissing himself when it sank in that he was  _literally_ in the clutches of a werewolf.

“Turn on the light, idiot,” another voice said, this one bored bordering on disdainful.

“But, _why?”_ the first woman (girl?) asked, baffled.

“The scare tactics work best when our prey can actually _see_ us, don’t you think?” the second woman said, tone dry.

If Stiles had been able find his voice, he would’ve told them that they were doing just fine.

The one holding Stiles’ face giggled and released him. “You always have the best ideas!”

Stiles used his captor’s distraction to test his bonds, and probably did a terrible job of holding in his groan of pain. His head was throbbing like a motherfucker.

Great. Just fucking peachy.

He wriggled around again, ignoring the pain. He’s a Stilinski, goddamn it and Stilinskis never say die.

Or is that the Goonies? Stiles could never remember, but _damn,_ these fuckers knew how to tie excellent restraints. It made him wonder if werewolves were into bondage which got him thinking about Derek in handcuffs and leather—

A light clicked on, just dim enough that it took only a brief moment for his eyes to adjust, though a flare of pain shot through his skull, and both Stiles and his dirty, dirty brain froze.

The man standing in front of him was handsome, and impeccably dressed, wearing a pressed suit and an odd smile.

Jesus H. Christ. Were there prerequisites to becoming a werewolf? Did you have to be pretty and have fashion sense? And what if you weren’t pretty, did you have to sell your soul to Satan for eternal beauty first?

One of the wolves laughed and for a moment, Stiles thought he’d said that aloud, but then the wolf says, “He smells so confused. It’s _adorable.”_

Stiles turned his head to find the owner of the voice, but black spots immediately dot his vision and bile rose in his throat, accompanied by a wave of dizziness that made Stiles squeeze his eyes shut. After that he didn’t bother trying to look around.

He waited until the three wolves strolled into his line of vision, flanking their Alpha. Two were female, one with a slightly unhinged grin and one with a look of eternal boredom on her face, obviously the two he’d heard speaking. The third— a bloodthirsty werewolf if Stiles ever saw one— was another dude, the one who had made the comment about Stiles being adorable which was unacceptable. Stiles was manly as _fuck_ , not adorable.

“Hello, _Stiles.”_ The Alpha said his name like it amused him and hell, it probably did. Stiles had given himself the nickname when he was four so it made sense that it was a little funny. Not that Stiles didn’t like it, anything was better than his real name and Jesus, to this day he doesn’t understand what his mother was thinking and whoa, okay, internal rambling. Comforting and familiar, but he needed to focus and think- about. Things.

Like how the fuck he got here.

One second he’d been talking to Derek in the parking lot—

 

Stiles clutched Derek’s arm tightly, fingers digging into skin hard enough to leave bruises on a human. “Derek. Calm down.” It seemed to snap him out of it. Derek blinked at Stiles confusedly and all of his sharp, wolfy bits start to recede. “That’s it, that’s good,” Stiles praised, running a hand over Derek’s side. “Now, just tell me what’s happening.”

Derek took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “Werewolf. Alpha.”

Stiles felt his eyes widen. “I take it it’s not Em.”

It wasn’t really a question and if it was it was a really dumb one, but Derek answered anyway, “Definitely not Mom.”

Stiles nodded once, his mouth pressed into a tight, determined line. “Right. Get in the car.”

Derek’s ~~stupid~~ eyebrows shot up in confusion. “What? No, we have to track him—”

Stiles’ reply was immediate. “No way in hell.”

“But, Stiles, if he’s killing people we should do something about it.” Derek stopped for a second and then his eyes lit up, _“We_ could stop him!” Derek said excitedly.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Derek, you’re a fucking idiot. I say that with love.”

Derek opened his mouth to protest, but Stiles wasn’t having any of it. “No, we’re not going after a probably _rogue_ Alpha without any backup. We don’t even know if he’s alone! Just— Get in the car.”

Derek gaped in disbelief, clearly wondering when Stiles had become the logical one (the minute he realized that Derek was in danger, or more accurately, a danger to himself) but gave in with an exasperated huff.

Stiles had climbed in after Derek, deciding that walking around to get in the car like a normal person just wasn’t worth it. He dug his phone out of his pocket once he was settled in the driver’s side.

After that things get a bit hazy. He remembered calling Em and telling her that Derek had caught the scent of an Alpha, and then he distinctly remembered Em cursing a lot and growling out orders, sending Sam and Gabe to the nursery with the pups while Arthur and Peter were sent after John.

“Will it go after him?” Stiles asked quietly, all of the blood rushing from his face. Derek put a hand on his knee, squeezing tight.

_“It’s just a precaution,” Em soothed. “He’s Pack, honey, even if he doesn’t know it. We look after our own.”_

Stiles stared blankly at his dashboard. “Right.” Derek squeezed his leg again.

_“Hold tight. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”_

Em’s reassurances hadn’t much calmed him, but he had to keep a level head for both him and Derek.

Not that his newfound sense of responsibility had really mattered after some douchebag wrenched the door clean off of Stiles’ beautiful baby and hit Derek over the head with a fucking crowbar.

Derek had slumped over, out cold, and scary, douchebag guy had smirked at Stiles and—  

 

That’s about where Stiles’ memory gets fuzzy, but he’s guessing that whatever happened after that led to him being here in this dank, perfect-for-a-murder place, tied up by his hands with a splitting skull and a screaming shoulder. So.

“Stiles,” the Alpha said sternly. Stiles snapped back to attention, but said nothing, just stared at the werewolf with his mouth hanging open.

“Fucking Luke. He was told to _incapacitate_ , not give the boy brain damage,” the Alpha muttered.

Marie tittered and bounced on her feet, while the bored one sighed and resumed studying her nails. The dude in the back continued watching Stiles with a hungry expression. The cannibalistic type of hungry. Oh, God.

“Who’s Luke?” Stiles blurted, trying to distract his brain from the images of Crazy Wolf #2 gnawing happily on a bone with a big, white bib tied around his neck and completely covered in blood and bits of Stiles.

The Alpha’s eyes lit up. “Ah, so you maintain the ability to speak. That’s… good.” His eyes drifted over Stiles’ form and ew. It was like the Bad Touch. Except with the eyes.

“Why is that good? Some people, well, probably most everyone I know, would say that isn’t a good thing at all,” Stiles said, knowing that his best bet was stalling for time and if there was anything that Stiles did well, it was talking.

“I find resilience an excellent quality in a wolf,” the Alpha purred.

“Ha. What.” Stiles was pleased that the words came out evenly. Granted it was really only one word, but he didn’t need to let them in on just how terrified he actually was. That wasn’t even considering the fact that he probably reeked of fear and the wolves most definitely could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, because y’know werewolves and their fucking super-senses.

“A clever boy like you; Surely, I don’t need to spell it out for you?” The Alpha grinned, showing off his fangs.

No. No way. He was not offering Stiles the bite right now.

Stiles’ throat clicked audibly as he attempted to swallow down the lump of terror. “My, what big teeth you have,” he said weakly.

The Alpha chuckled. “And sharp, too.” He snarled and snapped his jaws, the sound echoing through the room.

There was no need for a demonstration, Stiles fucking believed it, okay. “Impressive,” Stiles said instead, subtly tugging at his bonds.

The Alpha knew what he was doing, of course. “There’s no use. Even if you somehow managed to escape, we’d only catch you and bring you back.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, though. I’d make sure they brought you back alive.”

He looked at Stiles as if he were expecting some kind of response.

“Thank you?” Stiles said uncertainly.

“Manners,” the Alpha mused. “Another excellent quality and one that is certainly lacking with this—” he dipped his head and side-eyed his betas, “—bunch.”

A familiar looking man barreled into the room and the Alpha rolled his eyes at Stiles, _see what I mean?_ He turned his attention away from Stiles. “Yes, Luke,” he said, voice bored.

So that was Luke.

It took Stiles a second to place him and when he did, he had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from shouting abuse. This was the asshole that knocked Derek out.

“I saw a car!” Luke offered excitedly.

“Very good, Lukas,” the Alpha patronized. “Do you remember the color as well?”

The bored-looking female snorted. “Highly doubtful,” she muttered.

Luke face fell, his eyes turning hard. “No one asked you,” he snapped. He turned back to his Alpha.“The car was approaching this side of town.”

The Alpha nodded sharply. Luke hovered awkwardly, not catching the dismissal.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” the Alpha said, waving a scarred hand towards the exit. “Return to your post.” Luke turned to leave, “Oh, and Lukas?” the Alpha called after him. Luke looked back questioningly. “If any of the others see a ‘car approaching this side of town,’ tell them to remain where they are. We’re werewolves. I’ll be able to hear you just fine from here.”

Luke’s mouth tightened and he shot Stiles a glare like it was _Stiles’_ fault that his Alpha was a dick! “Yes, Father.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

“That’s your _son?”_

The Alpha gave him an almost sheepish smile. “Yes. Takes after his mother, that one.” His mouth turned down at the corners. “She was a spirited one.”

Stiles noted the past tense. “She’s dead? What happened?” he asked.

He mentally slapped himself. He didn’t know if the question would set the Alpha off and he certainly didn’t want to find out.

“Hunters,” the Alpha spat venomously, turning his head to glare at something to the left of Stiles, his expression transforming into one of near unbalanced rage. He breathed heavily for a few moments before angrily carding a hand through his hair, seemingly composing himself.

Yep, the guy was completely batshit.

A calm smile settled on his face. “Where are my manners? I haven’t introduced myself. Deucalion.” He held out a hand and then realized that Stiles couldn’t return the gesture because, hello, Stiles was _tied up_. Deucalion let his hand drop to his side with an apologetic grimace. “I wish the restraints weren’t necessary. But, until we ascertain that your allegiance lies with us, they’ll have to stay.”

Stiles was about to inform him that his _‘allegiance’_ (who the fuck talked liked that) was and always would be to the Hales, but in a creepily synchronized move, Deucalion and his betas’ heads snap to the side, heads tilted at exactly the same angle. Stiles has spent enough time around werewolves to know what that meant.

Someone— or some _thing_ — was coming.

The Alpha’s expression was pleased. “Ah, our guests have arrived.”

His betas snarl, and Deucalion nodded toward the exit with a maniacal grin. They hunched over simultaneously, shifting before their hands even hit the ground, and ran from the room on all fours.

Stiles would never, ever join Deucalion and the Creep Brigade. That level of synchronicity was just _wrong._

“You’ll have to excuse us. We have a few things to take care of,” Deucalion smirked. And then he did the one thing that the bad guy always did wrong (other than monologuing). He left Stiles unattended.

Stiles immediately started wriggling in his bonds, desperately trying to free himself before Alpha Dickface came back with his pack of hyenas.

Ha. Hyenas. Wait, is that even insulting to a werewolf?

The rope around his wrists wouldn’t budge and it wasn’t long enough for him to swing himself about. They had left his feet untied, which was nice of them. They probably thought he wasn’t enough of a threat to warrant that much effort.

They were probably right.

He tried kicking around, looking for something to step on but there wasn’t anything close enough to reach. All he managed to do was jerk his arm in a tremendously uncomfortable way and make his head start pounding again. He stifled a groan, tears springing in his eyes.  

Stiles heard a whimper and finally noticed that he wasn’t alone. There were four humans trussed up back-to-back about ten yards to his left in the unlit portion of the room. A fifth was lying unconscious a little ways away from the others.

Stiles seemed to be the only one hanging from a fucking rafter, though. _That_ pleasure was all his.

Oh, wait. Previous statement retracted. Derek was also tied up by his hands to Stiles’ right, his wrists in manacles instead of rope. Stiles could see the places where the metal was digging into Derek’s wrists, the skin rubbed raw and bleeding.

They weren’t healing.

Stiles swallowed roughly. He’d heard about wolfsbane, obviously. The Pack had told him about it, but he’d never seen it in action.

It was so much worse than it sounded.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered shakily. “Derek, wake up.”

Derek smiled sleepily for a second before it faded into a grimace of pain. “Stiles—? Ow, _fuck!”_ His eyes snapped open, the growl that ripped its’ way from his throat more feral than anything Stiles had ever heard.

“Are you okay—”

“Stiles? Is that you?” a shrill voice asked.

Stiles froze.

He knew that voice. No, no, no—

_“Scott?”_

“Stiles, what the _hell_ is going on?” Scott asked in the same panicked tone.

No, because if Scott was here, then that meant that there was a good chance that the other humans were—

“Stilinski,” a very pissed off Jackson started.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles squeezed his eyes closed. This was a nightmare. Any second he was going to wake up and he’d be in bed next to Derek and then Derek would wake up, too and they’d have sleepy sex and it would be amazing.

“What the fuck is going on here, Stiles, I know you have something to do with this,” Jackson said.

Not a nightmare. Real life. Real fucking life.

“If this is your idea of a joke—”

“Does it look like this is a fucking joke, Whittemore,” Derek snarled.

Stiles was torn between trying to discern who the fuck else was here and checking on Derek.

 ~~Unsurprisingly,~~ Derek won out.

“Derek, are you alright?” Stiles asked, trying once again to free himself from his bonds.

“‘m fine,” Derek grunted. “I think I’ve got a concussion.”

That made two of them. At least Stiles could manage to move his head without feeling the need to vomit all over himself now. Kind of. Derek was a great motivator.

“Fucking wolfsbane,” Derek muttered, yanking weakly at his restraints.

“They didn’t— You don’t have any of it in you, right?” Stiles asked, feeling strangely lightheaded.

“Nah. They just slapped some on the irons,” Derek said nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, Stiles. Breathe.”

Stiles became aware of his burning lungs and realized that he wasn’t breathing. He could _not_ have a panic attack while tied up to a rafter in a room full of his friends. He refused.

“Goddammit, Stiles, _breathe,”_ Derek growled.

The first breath he succeeded in choking down was painful, but eventually his breathing leveled out.

“Are _you_ okay?” Derek asked after Stiles was finished with his mini-meltdown. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles said, immediately cursing the tremor in his voice. It wasn’t like Derek wouldn’t be able to tell he was lying anyways, but Stiles didn’t have to help him along.

“I’ll kill them all,” Derek spat, eyes glowing amber.

Another familiar voice piped up, “Whoa. Whoa there.”

Stiles dragged his eyes away from Derek.

“Hi,” Isaac said when he got their attention. “Yeah, so, what’s the deal with your eyes?” he asked Derek.

“His eyes?” Stiles asked, voice high.

“Yeah. You know. They’re glowing,” Isaac pointed out, and how he managed to sound simultaneously sarcastic and utterly petrified was beyond Stiles.

Stiles looked back at Derek to see that his eyes were, in fact, still fucking glowing. “What the hell, Derek? Cut it out,” Stiles hissed.

“I can’t. Wolfsbane,” Derek said as if that explained everything and oh, wait. It actually kind of did. “How the fuck did they even manage to put it on the cuffs?”

Stiles thought about it and suddenly remembered the funny looking scars on the Alpha’s hands. He relayed the information to Derek.

He looked unnecessarily impressed. “Huh.”

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Isaac asked.

“Who else is here?” Stiles deflected.

“They got me, Scott, Allison, Jackson and Lydia.”

And yeah, Stiles could just make out that tell-tale strawberry blonde hair beside Jackson’s perfectly coiffed douchebag-‘do.

“How the fuck did all of you get here?” Stiles asked, exasperated.

Scott and Isaac exchanged a look and started talking.

“Well, me and Scott were talking to Allison—”

“-and these two scary chicks came out of nowhere and grabbed her and we tried to stop them, but-”

Isaac ducked his head and mumbled, “—they kind of knocked us out.”

God, Scott and Isaac were worse than him and Derek. At least _they_ didn’t finish each other’s sentences.

Stiles mulled the new information over. He had an idea of who the ‘two scary chicks’ were. “How did Jackson and Lydia get involved?”

“Lydia was being nosy, no surprise there,” Jackson muttered.

“I will bite your dick off, Jackson,” Lydia growled, barely regaining consciousness and already rearing for a fight.

Because _that’s_ what they need right now. Jackson and Lydia’s drama on top of all this bullshit.

Derek snorted from beside him. “Tell me about it.”

_“Hey.”_

Stiles sighed. Great, now him and his faulty brain filter had managed to piss Lydia off. “I’m sorry, Lyds. I didn’t—”

“You’re dead to me, Stilinski.”

So, Lydia didn’t accept his apology.

Oh well, Stiles thought as Lydia went on a tirade because of the ‘nosy’ comment Jackson had made. Maybe she’d promote Allison to best girlfriend and then he’d never have to hear another detail about Jackson’s penis again. He was immediately cheered by the thought. He almost felt bad for Allison. Almost.

After all, it was her fault that most of them had ended up here anywa—

“Shh,” Stiles hissed impatiently, stunning Lydia into silence.

“Did you just _shush_ me?” Lydia asked incredulously.

Well, briefly stunning her into silence.

“Shh!”

“Is he _shushing_ me?”

“They were after Allison,” Stiles said.

“What?” Scott’s brows were drawn in confusion.

“Why were they after Allison?” Stiles asked the room at large.

Scott shrugged. “I dunno?”

“Then _ask_ her, dumbass,” Lydia snapped.

“She’s unconscious!” Scott whined.

Lydia gave him a look. “Well, wake her ass up. Nap time’s over.”

Scott grumbled under his breath, but managed to scoot close enough to Allison to nudge one of her feet foot with his own. “Allison. Als, wake up.”

Allison groaned, and then snapped upright. “What happened? There were two wolves—” She cut off when she saw Scott, her expression losing some of its’ severity. “Oh. S-Scott,” she said nervously. “I thought it was my dad. He’s the only one that calls me that.”

And Stiles suddenly got it.

Hunters. Hunters had killed Deucalion’s mate.

“She’s a hunter,” Stiles said, just loud enough for Derek to hear.

Derek’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched visibly. Stiles watched worriedly as his face fell slack and a grin overtook his scowl.

Stiles wondered if the aconite was making him loopy.

Derek grinned over at Stiles, then looked past him. “Hey, Allison. How fast can you get out of those restraints?”

-

Apparently Allison could get out of her restraints really fucking fast because it wasn’t even minutes later and all of them, besides Derek, were out of their bonds.

Stiles rushed over, hands fluttering uselessly as he checked Derek for wounds, for tenderness. He sighed in relief when he found none and reached up to touch Derek’s face.

“I’ll get you down,” Stiles promised. He glanced around looking for something, _anything_ that could help them out.

Derek snorted (and did he sound a little weak?) “Yeah? How you gonna do that? Climb me and pick the lock?” He snorted again (unnecessary). Which, he was kind of right. They’d only been tied up about a foot from the ground, but it was still too high for Stiles to reach even with his extra long monkey arms.

Stiles glared up at him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m gonna fucking do, asshole.”

Derek looked at him in fond amusement, shaking his head. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that that very manly cry of pain you gave when Allison cut you down wasn’t just because you hit the ground wrong, Stiles.” Damn. He thought he’d done that quietly. Maybe he had. Fucking werewolves. “I can smell the blood.” All amusement was gone from Derek’s voice now, his face filled with concern as his eyes swept over Stiles’ face and landed on the spot of blood that had dripped down his neck from where Luke had bludgeoned him.

“It’s only a flesh wound,” Stiles joked and Derek made a wounded noise.

“I’m sorry that I got you mixed up in all of this.” Stiles looked at his boyfriend fondly. It was just like Derek to blame himself for things that weren’t his fault.

Stiles put a hand on his neck, thumb brushing over his jaw. “Stop that. I’d rather be in here with you, life in mortal peril, than out there safe without you and going insane with worry.”

Derek closed his eyes. “I love you, Stiles.”

“I know.”

 He grinned wide when Derek’s eyes flew open in shock. He gaped down at Stiles.

“Really? You have time to slip in a Star Wars reference, right now? We could _die—”_

Stiles cast his eyes towards the heavens. “We’re not going to die, drama queen.”

“We _might!”_

Stiles ignored him, trying to figure out how he was going to get Derek down. He didn’t even have anything to pick the lock with—

Someone shoved a bobby pin under his nose. “Use this.”

Stiles took it gratefully. “Thanks, Lyds.”

Lydia’s slightly stony expression softened a bit. “Yeah, well. It’s not like we can just leave him here, can we? I’ve already had enough of you pining after him for one lifetime,” she said gruffly.

Stiles gave her a one armed hug. “You’re the best.”

Lydia sniffed. “I know.”

Stiles smile turned into a frown as he eyed the cuffs around Derek’s wrist. The problem wasn’t the lock. Lock picking was something he’d picked up when he was, like, ten, that wasn’t even an issue. The problem was the climbing while the world span around him. “Uhh, actually, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why the hell not?” Lydia asked.

Stiles felt Derek glaring at him as he quickly muttered, “Well, I wouldn’t say the room is _spinning,_ exactly, but it might be, like, a little wobbly.”

Derek growled, eyes flickering again. Werewolves and their _fucking_ super-hearing. “I’m gonna fucking kill them!”

Stiles held up his hand. “Whoa. Calm it down, Sourwolf.”

“Not that again,” Derek groaned. “It’s completely unimaginative!”

“But fitting,” Stiles echoed something Derek had said years before with a smile.

Derek smiled despite himself. “Ass.”

“Dick.”

“OH-kay. I’m going to interrupt your weirdo flirting for a sec.” Lydia was looking at them oddly. “How are we gonna get him down if you can’t climb? Because as much as I’d love to climb Derek like a tree—” Stiles groaned. “—I’m not too familiar with picking locks.”

Stiles eyed her. “That actually surprises me a little bit.”

Lydia flipped her hair and huffed, “Do I look like I need to break into places? Lock picking is a poor person’s skill.”

Lydia-logic. He wasn’t going to argue with it.

Allison appeared at his side, hand held out. “Let me.”

Stiles stared at her. Allison wiggled her fingers. “Stiles. Bobby pin.”

“Oh, right.”

Derek growled a warning as Allison approached. “I won’t hurt you, Derek.”

“Excuse me if the thought of having a hunter on my back isn’t exactly a comforting one.”

Allison didn’t even blink. “As if the thought of climbing on the back of a werewolf is any more appealing.”

Derek’s mouth twitched. Ha. He totally liked her, Stiles could tell.

“Touché. Let’s get this over with then.”

“Did she just say ‘werewolf?’” Lydia whispered to Stiles.

Stiles fidgeted. “No!” Lydia glared at him. “Well…” He gave her an awkward smile. “Surprise?”

Lydia’s mouth fell open in an ‘O’. She studied Derek as Allison gracefully climbed up his back. Lydia turned back to glare at him some more. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

Stiles gulped.

“Later, though,” she relented. “I can wait until we’re not surrounded by idiots.” She tilted her head over to where Scott and Isaac were clutching at each other, looking petrified, and Jackson was fixing his hair. Stiles laughed despite himself.

Allison made quick work of the lock. Derek held on to the irons until Allison jumped down, and then followed, immediately rushing to Stiles and wrapping him up in his arms. Stiles paid no attention to his aching head or the dried blood on his neck. He felt nothing but relief at having those fucking chains off Derek.

“I do love you, Derek,” Stiles mumbled into his neck.

“I know, Stiles, I know.” Derek squeezed him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log Feb 17th 1:33 P.M. (my fellow) Mexicans next door are having a party. I was not invited. RUDE. Captain’s Log Mar 3rd 7:36 P.M. So, I bought myself some new books. First thing Cheese does when she gets in my room? “Ooh, are those new books??”
> 
> She took all of my new books.
> 
> ALL OF THEM
> 
> Captain’s Log Mar 8th ass o’clock A.M. Cheese has decided to start calling me Ollie. Every time she comes over she starts singing ‘Ollie, Ollie oxen free.’ 
> 
> I want to shoot a bitch in the face. But I can’t because she’s my life partner and I can’t be a hermit _alone_ D:
> 
> Captain’s Log Mar 21st 1:06 A.M. I’ve got chiiiills they’re multiplying! No, literally I have chills. I’m sick AF
> 
> Captain’s Log Mar 24th 3:17 A.M. Dying. Too tired to write my will again. I can’t top that last one anyways. That shit was pure gold.
> 
> Personal favorite lines:  
> \- Don’t go through my computer.
> 
> \- I would like to point out the obvious and say that I don’t sleep with pants on
> 
> \- No, really. Don’t go through my computer.
> 
> \- Chai (Chai is my brother) you better not give Ares away. That’s _my_ fucking dog. You bury that little fucker with me, if you have to
> 
> \- So, in case you ignored my DYING WISH and went through my computer, I guess now would be the proper time to tell you that I occasionally write gay porn
> 
> \- What the fuck am I talking about, you guys barely manage hooking up your iPods without me, there’s no way any of you would be able to find anything damning on here.
> 
> \- stop judging me I’m fucking dead
> 
> \- You people can have my movies and tv shows, but don’t touch my music. None of you are worthy
> 
> \- Cheese, by the time you join me in Hell, I’ll probably have scoped out a good spot for us to live. Or not live uh
> 
> \- Bury me with my external hard drive. No wait I want to be cremated. Burn me with my books and my external hard drive!
> 
> Captain’s Log Mar 27th 8:35 P.M. I was only on my computer for about half an hour and a fucking blood vessel burst in my eye sonofabitch! That shit hurrttttss
> 
> Captain’s Log Mar 28th 2:09 A.M. And there goes another one


	12. Something Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting back to fluff in this chapter, so those of you who think I can't plot (I can totally plot, shut up) and are thinking about giving up, just hold on. Fluff is on the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from 'Something Good' by Alt J, which is this amazing little band that has a bunch of catchy ass, nonsensical songs couldn't find anything better, so it'll have to do for now
> 
> This chapter is for dae, rightmovement, thelighthouseguardian, lucy, and all the other people who were really nice about reminding me of my lack of updates for this one. (I don't care if you don't like this chapter, it's for you anyways!)
> 
> Wouldn't it be funny if I just killed off Derek's entire family? I’m just gonna pull a game of thrones and start killing everyone off one by one.
> 
> Not.
> 
> c:
> 
> Also, I have grown and changed as a person and as a result so have my ideas and whatnot. Basically what I'm saying is I've still got a few chapters for this one in me. I know I'm sorry
> 
> might go back and change some stuff later. Sleep now, sleep good
> 
> SN: This Deucalion, not that Deucalion, obvs. I'm just unimaginative and I kind of liked the name :)  
> 

Em watched the road, anxiously waiting for her husband and brother to arrive. The wolf was agitated, wanting to be let loose and tear some throats out, but she held back, knowing their opportunity would come soon enough.

Her daughter, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Laura was wolfed out and pacing angrily, alternating between shooting filthy looks in the general direction of the warehouse and suggesting that they go ahead of the others and attack the trespassing pack themselves.

“What is there, ten wolves, tops? We can take them, Mom, no problem.” They probably could, but Em wasn’t willing to risk her daughter’s life on that.

“How ‘bout we put that brilliant plan on the back burner,” Em said, only half sarcastic.

Laura scowled and went back to pacing. Em went back to waiting.

-

“Come on, Derek, let’s just— there are dark corners all over the place. I’m pretty sure we can get away with a quickie,” Stiles murmured against his mouth.

Surprising to no one, their _‘I’m so glad you’re not injured (or at least_ seriously _injured)’_ hug had devolved into making out. Which probably wasn’t the best idea because they _should_ be focusing on getting out of here, but, well, minimal self-control. It’s a thing.

Derek sighed into the kiss, pulling away. Obviously, he was going to have to be the sensible one, here. “Stiles, we can’t—”

“No one will notice, Derek,” Stiles told him, apparently being completely serious.

“Really,” Derek said drily.

“Absolutely,” Stiles said, eyes wide the way they only get when he’s lying.

Derek gave him a knowing look. “Now, why don’t I believe you.”

Stiles let out an insulted huff. “I don’t know, I’ve only been your _best friend_ for, like, the last five years of our _lives.”_

“Which is precisely why I don’t believe you,” Derek said, knocking their foreheads together lightly. “I know you too well.”

Derek grinned at the disgruntled look on Stiles’ face.

“But, Derek,” Stiles whined.

Derek tugged Stiles back against his chest. “Hypothetically,” he began, pressing a kiss below Stiles’ ear. “If I were to give into your ridiculous demands, where would we be doing this?”

“Hypothetically?” Stiles repeated.

“Mmhm,” Derek breathed against his neck, mouth skimming over soft skin.

“Here,” Stiles’ voice cracked. “Here would be good.”

Derek smiled into his neck. “Yeah?”

Stiles groaned. _“Fuck_ yeah.” He dipped down to mash their mouths together, tongue slipping seamlessly into Derek’s mouth while his hand tugged at the hair at the base of his skull, just the way Derek liked it.

Stiles moved his thigh so that it was situated between Derek’s, hand moving down to cup his ass and drag him closer—

“Wait, you meant _right_ here? Like, we’re doing this—”

Stiles gave a slow little roll of his hips and Derek wondered why he was even talking, this spot was good, like super good, kind of perfect really.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he said dumbly. Stiles grinned and snuck a hand past the waistband of his pants, fingers pressing marks into his hips.

_So good._

Stiles attacked his mouth again, and Derek leaned into it, curling his fingers in Stiles’ hair.

Someone— more like _two_ someones— started giggling behind them.

“Aren’t they perfect together?” Scott said.

“They really are,” Isaac agreed. “How did we not see this earlier?” he wondered.

“Am I the only one that’s still concerned that we’ve been kidnapped here?” Jackson asked loudly.

“Shut up, Jack-off, no one asked for your opinion,” Lydia snapped, apparently still angry about the whole ‘nosy’ thing.

Stiles gave the most put upon sigh ever and slumped against Derek’s chest. “Or not,” he muttered, shooting a glare over his shoulder while Derek growled in irritation, wondering why _Deucalion_ or whatever the hell his name was hadn’t done the world a favor and killed them all.

-

By the time Arthur and Peter finally got there, John in tow— it was a twenty minute drive, at the _most,_ why the fuck it had taken them nearly an _hour_ to get there, she’ll never know— Em was ready to accept Laura’s proposal out of sheer boredom.

She narrowed her eyes as her husband drew near and he stopped short, outstretched arms falling awkwardly to his sides, wisely choosing not to attempt embracing his wife in her aggravated state.

“I thought we agreed on fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, well, you know Arthur,” Peter answered, slipping his hands into his pockets imperiously.

“Oh, fuck you and the high horse you rode in on—”

_“Enough.”_

They sheepishly fell silent, heads tilting in a subtle show of submission. She didn’t usually like pulling rank, but it came to good use on occasion.

She nodded to the sheriff, who was observing the proceedings with a slightly mystified expression. “Hey, John.”

He followed suit, nodding in greeting. “Em, Laura.” His eyes widened a bit as he took in Laura’s appearance, but his voice didn’t falter which was a good sign.

If she wanted to deal with hysterics, she’d be talking to Arthur.

“I expect my husband has told you what we know,” Em said brusquely. “He couldn’t have fucked that up too much, at least.”

“Hey, I—” Arthur’s mouth snapped shut at Em’s warning growl.

John rubbed the back of his head and made a complicated face. Em always knew Stiles had gotten it from somewhere. “Ehh… yeah. Yeah, he told me. About… yeah.”

Em waited, expecting him to elaborate.

He didn’t. He was too busy avoiding eye contact in favor of squinting at the ground.

“You seem to be taking it well,” she prompted subtly.

John glanced up, startled. “Uh… yeah,” he said, exchanging a look with Arthur and Peter.

**—**

John liked to think he was a reasonable man.

So, when Arthur had told him that his son had been kidnapped by _werewolves_ and then proceeded to turn _into_ a _werewolf_ in the front seat of his car, he didn’t think that slamming on the brakes and jumping out of said car to have a little anxiety attack was that much of an unreasonable response.

You know. To finding out about the existence of _werewolves._

He was dimly aware of Arthur and Peter exiting the car after him, watching as he frantically paced the road, on the brink of hyperventilation.

“That could’ve been handled better,” Peter muttered at his brother.

“Shut up, Peter,” Arthur muttered back. “It’s not like I had time to just ease him into it. What would I have said? ‘Now, John, I know this might difficult for you to understand, but you know how the entire family “goes out of town” one day a month and that day just so happens to coincide with the full moon? Yeah, _werewolves.’”_ He wiggled his fingers on the last word and gave Peter a dull look, like, _how dumb are you._

“Would’ve been better than what you went with, wolfing out in the car _while he was driving,”_ Peter said angrily. “We could have _died.”_

“We wouldn’t have died, just possibly been severely injured,” Arthur protested weakly. Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation and pointed at John. “Oh, right. Shit.”

Oh, _God._ He didn’t have a psychotic break. This was _happening._ John groaned and covered his eyes.

The wolves looked at him in concern.

“John,” Arthur said tentatively, almost as if he were scared of him.

John snorted, just a tad hysterical. What the hell did a _werewolf_ have to be scared of.

“I’m not too fond of being _shot_ , John,” Arthur huffed.

Oh, God. He’d lost control of his brain-to-mouth filter. He was as bad as Stiles _._

“I’ll say,” Arthur said under his breath.

“Though I think Stiles might’ve handled it a bit better,” Peter said thoughtfully. He turned his brother, asking, “What do you think?” Arthur hummed noncommittally.

John straightened up, his panic dying out as that sunk in.

He marched determinedly to his car, muttering curses and half formed threats under his breath— “Goddamn kid” and “Big trouble” and “Just wait ‘til I—” and “So he thinks he can keep this from _me_ , huh?” He chuckled mirthlessly and slid into the front seat.

The wolves scrambled to follow, barely making it inside the cruiser before John was flying down the road, a grim smile upon his face.

“John,” Arthur asked nervously. “What, uh, what’s with the face?”

The sheriff looked at him, smile growing.

“John. Watch the road, John.”

The sheriff paid no attention to Arthur’s warnings, just continued staring at him with that eerie look in his eye and said, “I’m going to ground that little shit for the rest of his natural _life.”_

Arthur blinked, suddenly understanding. Well, everyone had different ways of dealing with things, he supposed.

“We’re about to go off the road,” Peter pointed out mildly.

John looked up just in time to swerve the car away from the line of trees he’d nearly driven them into. Arthur squeaked (like a _man),_ claws digging into the upholstery in his struggle to keep upright.

“My bad, gentleman. Gentle-wolves?” The sheriff barked (ha. Werewolf humor) out a truly frightening laugh. _“Werewolves!”_ He doubled over in his seat, slapping at the steering wheel as he wheezed.

Arthur widened his eyes at his brother in the rearview mirror, trying to silently convey his alarm.

Peter just lifted a shoulder, unconcerned, and went back to staring out the window while John mumbled to himself about, “Chores, so many chores.”

Arthur groaned and buried his face in his hands, resolving not to emerge until the keys were out of the ignition and his feet were on solid ground.

-

“He handled it… well,” Peter said at the same time Arthur said, “He was totally fine, Em, totally fine.”

“Yeah, I’m good, see?” John added. “Werewolves.” He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal.

Em gave the three of them a skeptical look. “I was actually referring to our kidnapped children, but… if you say so.”

“Right,” John said. “That’s what we meant.” Arthur nodded in agreement and Peter just sighed like he didn’t care either way, but wasn’t going to be the one to explain.

Em shook the little moment of weirdness off. Time for that later.

“Arthur, you and Peter are coming with me. You’re going to want to stay out here, John.” The sheriff frowned, clearly wanting to argue. “Trust me on this,” Em said. “We’re going to get our boys out, but it’ll be easier if we don’t have to worry about—”

She went stiff as the sound of tires on asphalt registered. The rest of the wolves’ heads shot up seconds later, and then they were surrounding John, standing between him and whatever was coming.

And whatever was coming turned out to be an all-too-familiar SUV.

Em straightened from her crouch, throwing up her hands as it came to a halt alongside her Camaro and the sheriff’s cruiser.

“What the hell is she doing here,” she said exasperatedly. “She’s supposed to be off her feet, for fuck’s sake.”

“Old habits die hard, I suppose,” Peter said sunnily, already making his way over to his very pregnant wife.

“Tell her she has to stay in the car,” Em yelled. “Alan said that handling heavy artillery while eight months pregnant isn’t good for _anyone_ , not even her.” Peter flapped a hand behind him dismissively.

“Heavy artillery?” John repeated, eyes wide.

“It’s a long story,” Arthur said. “But in summation, Rose used to be a… hunter of sorts.”

At John’s confused expression, Em started explaining, “Of werewolves and other supernatural beings—”

 _“Other_ supernatural beings? Wha—”

 _“_ — _until_ she met Peter. She only brings the guns out when the Pack is threatened, now.” Em twisted towards the car, raising her voice, “But she’s _supposed_ to be at home, helping Sam and Gabe with the pups!”

Rose stuck a hand out the window, flipping her off cheerfully.

“Your fingers are _swollen!”_ Em snapped.

 _“Em,”_ Peter hissed, reproachful. “Your hands are beautiful, love,” he assured his wife, who was staring at her hands in dismay.

The sheriff watched the exchange, mouth twitching. The amusement faded quickly.

“So I’m supposed to just wait out here and let you guys handle things?” he asked with a frown, forehead creased in consternation.

Em grimaced in sympathy. Standing around, not knowing would be difficult, she knew. She’d probably go insane if it were her in his place.

Thank God, it wasn’t.

John sighed his acceptance. “I guess I’ll go, uh—” he tilted his head towards his cruiser.

Em nodded. “We’ll see you in a little while.”

“I know you will,” John said easily, leaning over to muss Laura’s hair, not seeming to care that her features were unfamiliar, still distorted with the shift. “See ya soon, kiddo.”

The corners of Laura’s mouth lifted in what seemed to be a smile, but came off a trifle sinister. “Bye, John,” she said cheerfully.

John’s smile wavered and then came back full force. He wandered away, shaking his head in amusement.

“Bye, John,” Arthur echoed his daughter mournfully. He was sniffling a little at Em’s side, but she didn’t comment on it.

At least he hadn’t insisted on giving the sheriff a hug goodbye.

A thought occurred to Em. “Oh, and John?” The sheriff looked over his shoulder expectantly. “Tell Rose to give you one of her guns, just in case.”

John patted his holstered sidearm. “I think I’ve got it covered,” he said drily.

“Two words,” Arthur said, holding up two fingers. “Were. Wolves,” he ticked off.

Laura and Em stared at him.

“That’s one word, moron,” Peter said without bothering to turn away from Rose.

“What was that?” his wife asked him.

“Arthur,” he said dismissively.

Em pretended that her husband hadn’t spoken. “They have special bullets for those of the… werewolf persuasion.”

“I see,” John said. “I’ll, uh, do that then.”

“If she tries giving you a hard time about parting with one of her precious guns, tell her I’m going to send back the dagger set she wanted for Christmas,” Em called after him. John huffed a disbelieving laugh.

“What am I doing, Mom?” Laura asked eagerly.

Laura shifted back to human in shock as her mother told her she’d be retrieving her brothers —along with the humans Em could sense were in close proximity to them— while the Pack distracted the trespassing wolves.

“But it could be a trick,” Laura whined. “We could be playing right into their hands!” She turned pleading eyes on Arthur. “Da- _ad,_ tell her!”

“Laura,” Em said sternly. If she didn’t nip that shit in the bud, she’d have to deal with Arthur whining at her, too.

Laura threw her hands up. “How do you know even they’re back there?”

Em raised her eyebrows. “Because I’m the Alpha,” she said calmly.

Laura groaned.

“When you’ve retrieved them, you’ll bring them to Rose, who will take them home and _stay_ home—” Em caught Peter’s eye, he nodded, resigned, and relayed this to Rose. She slouched in her seat and said something about being _pregnant, not incompetent_ —“And _then,_ you can join us in taking down the other pack. Mmkay, pumpkin?”

 _“Fine,”_ Laura said angrily.

Em wrapped her arms around her daughter’s sullen form and dragged her in for a hug. “I love you, Laura,” she said sweetly, a small smirk playing around the edges of her mouth.

“Yeah, I know,” Laura grumbled. “I love you, too, Mother.”

Arthur stood at Em’s side, stoic, until Laura made the grave mistake of telling him, “Bye, Dad.” Em sighed loudly. _Here we fucking go._

Arthur threw his arms around Laura, immediately breaking down. “Don’t go,” he sobbed.

“You just _had_ to acknowledge his presence, didn’t you,” Em told her.

“I _know_ , I wasn’t thinking,” Laura said, struggling to keep her father from smothering her with his affection. “Dad, you’re a grown man, stop it. This is embarrassing,” she muttered, shoving at Arthur’s heavy limbs. “I love you, get off of me.”

Arthur took a step back, sniffling. “Now you remember what we taught you, right? Go for the jugular. Show no mercy.”

Laura snorted. “You got it, Pop.” She gave them a sarcastic salute and set off.

Arthur wrapped an arm around Em, and they watched as their daughter trudged across the street, expression dour.

“She’ll be fine,” Em said.

“I know she will,” Arthur said, rubbing at his eyes. Em patted her husband’s cheek and called Peter over.

“Just a second.” Peter was pulling his wife’s car door open, helping her down. He laid his hand on Rose’s stomach, and gave her a kiss. “Don’t worry; I’ll be back.”

“Course you will,” Rose said easily. “And if you _don’t_ come back, I will hunt you down and shoot you in the fucking foot,” she said with a pleasant smile.

Peter wandered towards the other wolves looking completely smitten.

Arthur shuddered. “If Rose wasn’t pregnant, she probably could’ve taken out of all of these wolves by herself,” he whispered to his wife, terrified.

They watched as Rose waddled to the rear of the vehicle, pulling up the false bottom that was hidden by a layer of forgotten toys and sippy cups and reluctantly handed one of her semi-automatic rifles and a box of bullets over to the sheriff, who was staring at the impressive array of weapons with a healthy mixture of fear and awe.

“Be gentle with my baby,” Rose told him in the same tone one would say, _‘I know a hundred ways to kill a man with my bare hands and if you so much as_ scratch _one of my guns, I will give you a personal demonstration.’_

“She probably still could,” Em said, studying her sister-in-law consideringly. “Even with the waddle.”

“She _definitely_ could, even with the waddle,” Peter corrected with a besotted smile.

Rose glanced up from the gun she was loading in irritation. “Why the hell are you just standing around? Hurry up, my back is fucking killing me.”

-

“We should probably be trying to get out of here anyways,” Derek said, resigned.

Didn’t mean he still didn’t want to murder Stiles’ friends.

Stiles nodded, but didn’t say anything. He was staring at Derek’s wrists again, long fingers gently touching the skin around the slow-healing wounds.

“God, I want them all to die,” Stiles let out. Derek blinked in surprise.

“Like, I know it’s wrong,” Stiles said, “But those fuckers hurt you and I just want them all to fucking die. All of them. Horribly. Just horrible deaths. Involving a whole lot of pain and possibly a fire-breathing dragon, burning and then eating them alive.”

In a way, Stiles’ rage-fueled confession was unexpectedly sweet.

Derek pressed his mouth to Stiles’, smiling at the way Stiles immediately went for a handful of ass. Derek pulled back with a small chuckle.

“We should, uh,” Derek forgot what he was saying.  Probably because of the way Stiles was staring at him, cheeks all flushed and Derek knew, even though he couldn’t hear it— stupid fucking wolfsbane— that Stiles’ heart was beating like crazy. “Uhh… We, uh, _fuck_ — _”_

Stiles wrapped a hand around the back of Derek’s neck, dragging him in for another kiss and Derek let him, (has he mentioned that he’s a sucker) returning the kiss with equal amounts of enthusiasm.

Someone cleared their throat behind them.

Derek broke the kiss with a huff, leaning his forehead against Stiles’, catching his breath and willing away the urge to throttle whoever was interrupting them yet a-fucking-gain.

“What, what now,” Stiles snapped.

Allison gave them an apologetic smile and some of Stiles’ annoyance faded instantly. It was those freaking dimples _,_ man.

“Sorry to interrupt, guys, but I could use some help. There’s an exit,” she waved to the door at the far end of the room with a crooked, burned out ‘EXIT’ sign above it, “But I think there’s something blocking it. I can’t get it open,” she grumbled.

“Derek can get it open, can’t you, Der,” Stiles said confidently.

Derek shrugged. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Except it was a problem because no matter how hard he pushed, the damn thing wouldn’t move.

Stiles rubbed his shoulder when he skulked back, glaring at the ground. “Must be the wolfsbane, right?”

“Probably,” Derek said, absolutely not pouting.

“Well, what the fuck do we do n—”

The rest of Jackson’s sentence was drowned out by the sound of protesting metal. Derek shoved Stiles behind him and crouched in front of him, eyes flickering wildly.

The previously unmovable door was torn from its’ hinges and a dejected Laura slouched in through the open space.

“Come on, little bitches. I’ve been sent to free you,” she said glumly.

“Uhm, who the hell is this?” Lydia asked Derek.

“My sister.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Lydia said, looking mildly surprised.

“I wish I didn’t know I had a sister,” Derek muttered.

Stiles leapt on the wolf, limbs flying. “Laura!”

Stiles obviously did not share Derek’s sentiment.

Laura returned Stiles’ embrace half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah, good to see you’re not dead, Stiles.” She looked at her brother. “You, not so much.”

“Ha.” Derek said flatly, flipping her off.

“Play nice, you two,” Stiles said.

They gave him identical looks of disgust and said, “No.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. They were so alike it wasn’t even funny. Seriously. It was kind of terrifying.

“So, what’s happening?” he asked Laura.

Laura made a face. “I’m to escort you and the other brats to safety, while the P—” she glanced at the humans who were hovering around, listening to their conversation but trying to be subtle about it, “— _family_ takes care of… our _little problem_. Rose is waiting outside to take you and the hu— _your friends_ home.”

“What? And you get to stay?” Laura’s smile was answer enough. “No way,” Derek protested. “I’m not going home. The Pack needs us.”

“Are you now,” Laura said, skeptical and amused. “Is that blood I smell, Dee Dee?” Laura asked sweetly.

“I don’t fucking know what you’re smelling, Laura, it’s _your_ goddamn nose,” Derek grumbled under his breath, hiding his still bleeding wrists from view.

“Well, I’m staying,” Allison cut in. She met the irritated look Laura leveled her, head on.

“Who’s this?” Laura asked her brother in an undertone.

“Hunter,” Derek grunted. Laura raised an eyebrow at Allison, nose wrinkled in distaste. “She’s okay,” Derek said with a shrug.

Allison was clearly struggling not to roll her eyes. “I can help,” she said.

Laura’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, because you have experience with this kind of thing, don’t you? Being a hunter and all.”

Allison lifted her chin defiantly. “Yes.”

“You have no weapons,” Laura pointed out, through gritted teeth.

“I’m sure I’ll find something,” was Allison’s flippant reply.

They stared each other down for what seemed like forever, Stiles and Derek watching in confusion, not really knowing what was going on, until Laura cracked an unwilling smile.

“Help me get the other meat bags to the car and I’ll _help_ you find something.”

Allison’s cool expression faded, replaced by a hesitant smile. “Deal.”

Laura winked at her and Allison looked away, blushing. Laura’s smile grew.

“Laura, no,” Derek said in horror, realization dawning. “Stop it, Laura.”

Laura just shot him a smarmy grin and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s go, you know Rose doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Allison, then Stiles and Derek followed her outside, the rest trailing behind, giving the train car and the door that it had been blocking baffled looks.

-

Em stalked toward the rogue Alpha, teeth bared and blood dripping from her hands.

Arthur and Peter had gone, following after a few betas that were trying to flee the fight— bitches— leaving Em alone. She wasn’t too worried about it, though.

In fact, if her children weren’t in immediate danger, she’d be laughing at how easily this _Alpha’s_ pack was going down. She hadn’t even had to shift into her Alpha form yet. Pathetic.

Deucalion lifted his hands in surrender. “Now, now. Can we not resolve this disagreement peacefully?”

“You kidnapped my pups and attacked my pack. We’ll resolve this ‘disagreement’ with your throat between my teeth.”

“Shame,” Deucalion sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, you know.” He shook his head in mock-disappointment. “But then, your pup had to go and catch my scent. We couldn’t risk you checking in on us while we were exacting our revenge.”

Em stilled. “Revenge,” she repeated slowly.

“Oh, yes, haven’t you guessed why we’re here?”

Em straightened, staring at him blankly.

Deucalion rolled his eyes. “You’ve at least heard about the Argent girl, I’m assuming. _Kate,”_ he sneered the name.

“The one found here, dead,” Em affirmed flatly. “What does she have to do with anything?”

 _“Everything,”_ Deucalion snarled, furious. “She attempted to infiltrate our pack by seducing my youngest. She fled after we discovered her plan, but not before taking out as many of our wolves as she could. My wife came here to take care of it. She killed the human for her crimes and then made to return home. That should’ve been the end of it; no additional blood was spilled. We followed the hunters’ puerile code.”

“And,” Em prompted impatiently. She was tired of this. She wanted to finish up here and go home and take a nice, long bath. And get ahold of a toothbrush. She had werewolf in her teeth. Ugh.

“They went after her anyways.”

Em just looked at him, amazed by his inanity. “What were you _expecting_ them to do? She killed one of theirs.”

Deucalion’s eyes bleed red. “And they killed my _mate._ Cut her in half and left her body to rot,” his voice wavered. He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, he was back to his previously casual tone. “So, I’ve decided to take the entire family as recompense. I started with the old man, and now I’ve come for the girl. Allison, I think it is. Lovely name.” He smiled serenely.

“She’s only a child.”

Deucalion shrugged, unconcerned. “The Argent woman didn’t differentiate between child and adult when she was fucking my fifteen year old for information on our pack, why should I?”

Em’s stomach turned. Fifteen. That’s not much older than Derek.

Sick bitch.

Deucalion took her silence as cue to continue.

“It took me a while to decide how I was going to kill them, you know,” he said conversationally. “At first, I thought I’d give the girl the bite and send her home, have her parents kill her and then kill them.” He stared off into the distance wistfully. “It would’ve been poetic, but I’m a petty man and I’ll admit, I’ve been looking forward to ripping her throat out myself. And when I’ve finished, I’ll call her parents here and the last thing they’ll see is the lifeless body of their darling little huntress.” His smile turned anticipatory. “There’s always something so satisfying about killing a seasoned hunter. And two, that’s better than one.”

Em sighed internally. Why did she always get stuck dealing with the crazy ones. Sure, she understood why Deucalion was so unbalanced. Losing your mate, it did something to a person. This guy’s reaction was pretty tame in comparison to some of the stories she’d heard as a child (wolves that wiped out entire towns, entire packs, their _own_ packs in their grief). But, come on.

Monologues. _Really._

“Sorry, but we can’t allow that.”

“Why not? No one will miss them,” Deucalion said dismissively. “They are hunters. They _breed_ to die.”

“They are _people,_ and this is _our_ territory,” Em said calmly. “You will leave, or we will kill you and the rest of your already dwindling pack.”

Deucalion’ nonchalant manner disappeared, fangs peeking from his mouth. “You would choose to protect these hunters over your own kind?”

“Over you? I’m gonna go with a yeah.”

“Then I’m afraid we can’t let you live,” the Alpha sighed, two betas, one with an insane smile and another that just looked… hungry, slinking from the shadows to back him. “Such a shame.”

Em snorted in amusement. Melodramatic asshole.

“Though, I think I might take your pup’s little mate,” Deucalion added cheerfully. Em froze. “I’ve taken a _shine_ to him,” he leered.

She forced herself not to snarl, not to claw his heart out right then and there. He watched her expectantly, assessing almost, and she realized that that’s what he was trying to do. Get a rise out of her, make her sloppy, careless.

Em smirked. “You know, Duke, I’m starting to get the idea that you’re not a very nice man.”

Deucalion looked taken aback by her reaction. Or lack thereof. “I’d be more worried if I were you.”

Em laughed outright. “Oh, honey. Maybe I would be, if I saw you as an actual threat.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

Em gave him a patronizing smile, cleaning blood from beneath her claws.

Deucalion’s betas pounce.

-

When they got to the entrance of the warehouse— after sending the humans, minus Allison, home with Rose— they were greeted by the sight of Em crouched over Deucalion, claws embedded in his stomach.

“Would you not have done the same for your mate?” he asked, eyes pleading for understanding.

She considered it. “Yeah, probably. But then my mate’s still alive, so,” she gave a small shrug.

Deucalion snarled and made another attempt to get his claws around her throat.

And that’s the last thing he ever did.

The Pack stood around in silence until Laura sighed and said, “Goddammit.” She was staring at the wolves littering the room with an almost longing expression. “I cannot _believe_ I missed that fight.”

“Well, at least we’re all still alive,” Derek pointed out.

Laura whirled on him, eyes flashing. “This is _your_ fault.”

“What your sister means,” Em cut in, “Is that she’s glad you and Stiles are okay, honey. As am I,” Em added, wrapping her arms around her boys and hugging them tight.

 _“Thank you_ , Mom,” Derek sniffed, giving Laura a pointed look.

Laura’s claws came out.

“Laura, be nice to your brother, he’s been through enough today,” Em chided, nuzzling her son, taking in his familiar scent. His familiar, slightly unhealthy, wolfsbane-laced scent.

“Yes, Mother,” Laura intoned, voice bored and insincere.

Em didn’t hear a word. “Derek,” she said slowly.

Peter jogged up. Em’s attention snapped to his worried expression. “We found this on the Alpha.” He thrust a small, lead-lined box in her hand.

Em stared at the box, wordlessly studying the intricately engraved flowers and the inscription.

_Aconitum Lycoctonum_

“Don’t freak out,” Derek advised.

Em looked at him in alarm.

Arthur was by her side in an instant. “He’s _dying,_ Emma!”

Stiles’ mouth fell open in horror. “I though you said you were _fine!”_

“I _am,”_ Derek insisted.

“No, you’re not, you’re _dying,”_ Arthur sobbed.

“No, I’m not,” Derek protested, but Arthur wasn’t listening to him, he was too busy kneeling on the floor asking God why.

_“Take me instead!”_

Derek turned to his mother, the more sensible of the two. “I’m not dying, Mom.”

Em took his hands in hers, taking a look at his wrists. “Oh, that’s not so bad.”

“What are you talking about, it’s ‘not so bad?’” Arthur asked disbelievingly. “He’s _dying.”_

“Shut up, Arthur,” at least three different people said.

Em handed the box over to Stiles— obviously, she couldn’t handle the wolfsbane herself— and instructed him on how to treat the wounds. Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding at the sight of Derek’s skin knitting back together.

Em squeezed his arm in thanks. Arthur simply shoved him out of the way so he could give his pup a bone-crushing hug. Derek gave a put upon a sigh, but allowed it. His father clearly needed this.

“You’re welcome,” Stiles muttered. Derek smiled at him over Arthur’s shoulder and mouthed, _‘Thanks.’_

“My turn,” Laura said brightly, pushing her father off of Derek and holding her arms out. And Derek almost fell for it, he did, but then he saw the gleam in Laura’s eye and that her claws were out again. “C’mon, Dee Dee, give your big sister a hug,” she said sweetly, face shifting into a snarling smile.

He wasn’t too proud to cower in fear behind his mother.

Em patted his arm comfortingly and gave her eldest a disapproving look. “Laura…”

“Yes, Mother?” she asked innocently.

Peter wandered into view, dragging a wolf behind him by the ankle and humming something that sounded suspiciously like the tune to the cleanup song under his breath.

Em sighed. “C’mon, Arthur, help me move the bodies so we can get out of here before our children finally succeed in killing each other.”

“Only one of your children will die tonight, Mother,” Laura promised, eyes locked on Derek.

Allison grabbed Laura’s hand and tugged her away from her brother before she could attack him. “C’mon. It looks like they can use a hand.”

Laura looked at Allison, surprise melting into something else— Derek wondered if he looked that dumb when he looked at Stiles. He really hoped not— and smiled. “Yeah, okay.”

Derek shot Allison a grateful look. She caught it and gave him a small smile in return.

He didn’t like her. Not even a little bit.

-

John was standing at the edge of the room. He appeared to be unharmed, to Stiles’ relief, but the fact that he was here meant that he now knew the family secret.

Stiles tried not to panic.

He failed horribly.

“Dad?” Stiles approached his father slowly. “Dad, are you okay?”

John stared in pale-faced horror as the Hales and Allison gathered the bodies— Stiles winced internally (and maybe physically, who knows)— of the Alpha and his pack, putting them in a neat little row.

Awkward.

“Dad,” Stiles asked again. “Are you—”

“Okay?” John finished for him incredulously. “I just witnessed a we- _werewolf_ attempt to— and then Em, _Em_ ripped his throat out! With her _teeth_. _”_ He gestured wildly to his own teeth and snapped them together to demonstrate because clearly Stiles wasn’t bright enough to get what teeth were on his own.

“Well, technically, you were supposed to stay outside,” Arthur commented from across the room. “You wouldn’t’ve seen anything if you had just listened.”

John ignored him. “Em! Sweet little Em who loves _baking_ for goodness sake! And now, they’re walking around as if nothing happened, walking around, laughing, while they’re picking up the remains of dead _werewolves_ and it’s completely normal because they are also _werewolves.”_

His head snapped up. He turned on Stiles then, a crazed look in his eye, and pointed accusingly. “And you _knew_. _”_

_“No!”_

John crossed his arms and glared.

Stiles backtracked, “Well. I mean, yeah. But— Uhh…” He sputtered uselessly for a minute until he felt Derek’s hand brush against his back. Some of his tension melted away.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Derek started, John’s glare snapping to him. “It’s not Stiles’ fault. We— _I_ asked him not to tell you.”

“It was to keep you safe, Dad.” Stiles looked at his father imploringly. “I couldn’t lose you, too, not after— not after Mom.”

John’s shoulders slumped a little in defeat.

“Fine,” he said, tone grudging. “You’re grounded forever.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue and then, miracle of miracles, just stopped.

“Fine. Derek doesn’t count though, right? He can still come over?”

“Of course, how can I ground him, too, if he’s not there?!” his father asked hysterically. “You boys have dishes for the rest of your _lives.”_ John smacked Stiles on the back of the head and pulled them both in for a hug.

“Thank you for looking after my boy,” he said, just low enough for Derek to hear. Well, Derek and the rest of the wolves.

Derek wanted to say that he shouldn’t be thanking him, it was his fault that Stiles was mixed up in this in the first place, but he bit it back. “I’d do anything for Stiles,” he said instead.

John pulled back and studied him. “I know you would, son.” He squeezed Derek’s shoulder and ambled over to Em, who was wiping bloody hands on her jeans and muttering under her breath about her good clothes always getting ruined whenever some supernatural dipshit wanted to pick a fight with her pack.

“Happen often?” John asked drily.

“More often than I’d like,” Em said, rueful. She looked around the wreckage. “It still looks like a bloodbath in here.”

“It’d probably be easier just to burn the whole thing down,” John said offhandedly.

“Probably,” Em agreed.

-

Some guy Stiles didn’t recognize showed up— looking all cool and mysterious with his shiny head and impeccably groomed facial hair— and Em sent them home, saying that the grownups had to ‘finish taking care of business.’ Stiles was about 75% sure that meant burning a bunch of evidence, up to and including the bodies of some werewolves and maybe the entire warehouse because, face it, that whole place was a crime scene investigator’s wet dream.

Whatever, at least Laura and Allison got sent home, too.

They had barely gotten through the door when they heard a cry of, _“My babies!”_ followed by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and an armful of werewolf.

“That’s the proper way to greet someone when you find out they’re not dead,” Derek told his sister while Sam clucked at him and Stiles.

Laura’s eye twitched.

“Here’s an idea,” Allison said brightly, “Why don’t you give me a tour of the house?” Laura smiled, instantly distracted.

Derek was trying really hard not to like Allison.

“Sure. I can show you my bed.” Allison flushed. “Room,” Laura added with a smirk, several beats too late.

Derek tried to ignore the not-subtle-at-all nuance.

“Why do you smell like blood?” Sam asked, pissed.

Stiles paused in his patting of the werewolf’s stomach and brilliantly said, “Uhh.”

Sam’s eyes went bright gold. “I’m gonna murder those trespassing motherfuckers, I swear to—”

“Don’t worry about it, Sammy, Mom took care of it,” Derek said offhandedly, sidestepping his uncle to get to the living room.

“All of them? She couldn’t have just left me one or two?” Sam complained, following him and plopping onto the couch next to his husband.

Gabe snorted. “And what if she had? What were you going to do, track them down? You can’t even run right now.” Stiles hid his laughter with a cough. Laughing would either make Sam cry or it would piss him off, neither of which sounded appealing at the moment.

“I could, too,” Sam sulked. “I just don’t see why I had to stay home—”

“Oh, your being pregnant had nothing to do with it, I’m sure,” Gabe said, droll.

“Bitch.”

“You weren’t calling me a bitch last night when I—”

Derek glared at Stiles while his uncles bickered in the background, eyes clearly saying, ‘ _this is not funny why are you laughing_.’

Stiles slung an arm around his shoulder. “You’re much too pretty to be so frown-y all the time, Der-Bear.”

Derek grumbled at him, but didn’t command him to remove his arm at once so Stiles left it. Neither noticed the amused looks they were getting from Sam and Gabe.

Rose came into the living room, a plate piled high with sweets in hand. “Cookie?”

Stiles took one happily. “Stress baking, huh?”

Rose sighed in answer.

Rose’s stress baking was a thing of legends. You know what this meant? This meant mountains of cookies. _Mountains._

And suddenly, the last five to six hours almost seemed worth it.

“He was fine though, right?” Rose asked. “I mean—”

“Peter’s fine, Rose,” Derek assured her. “Didn’t have a scratch on him.”

Rose gave him a grateful smile.

“Hey, where is everyone?” Stiles asked her as she turned to leave.

“The humans?” Stiles nodded. “Oh,” Rose avoided his gaze guiltily, “I took them- home. Yeah.” She gave him a sunny smile and went back to the kitchen.

Stiles let out a gust of air. “I’m not even sure I want to know,” he said.

-

“I think they’re back,” Derek said.

Sam perked up and then drooped visibly, face falling. “Yeah, that’s them. I’m just gonna— uh, go.” He pushed himself off the couch and headed for the stairs.

Gabe rolled his eyes, following after him. “Sammy.”

“No. I can’t do it right now. I’m going to bed.”

He got about halfway up the stairs before Gabe grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. “No, you’re not. You’re gonna come down and say hi to John. You’ve been avoiding him for nearly two months. I’ve had enough of your moping.” He turned around and started walking back down, dragging Sam after him. “Besides. He totally misses you, too.”

“Gabe, no!” Sam protested, clawing at the banister as Gabe towed him back downstairs. “It’ll freak him out!”

“He just found out werewolves are real, Sammy. If that didn’t make him run, I doubt this will,” Gabe said.

Arthur, Em, Peter and lastly John walked into the house,

Gabe bypassed the first three, saying, “Yeah, good to see you managed to stay alive, excuse us.” He came to a halt in front of the sheriff.

John smiled when he caught sight of them. Sam’s answering smile was small and hopeful.

“Hey, John,” Gabe said, a _‘look what I did’_ smirk playing on his mouth. “Sammy wanted to say ‘hello.’” He swung Sam around in front of him and shoved him towards the sheriff, proudly presenting John with his pregnant bride.

“Heya, Gabe, Sam. I see you’re no longer avoiding me after that comment I…” He trailed off, eyes going round as they landed on the wolf’s belly.

_“Oh.”_

Sam’s nervous smile faltered, and the Pack tensed along with him.

Besides Gabe, who just seemed amused as usual.

“So, not a beer belly then,” John said slowly.

“Nope,” Gabe said, obnoxiously popping his lips on the ‘p’. “Ass babies,” he continued gleefully.

On the other side of the room, Arthur sat himself down in front of the couch Stiles and Derek were occupying, and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“What could I have done in a past life that was so awful that the gods have sentenced me to a life of _this?”_

Derek patted his father’s head. “I don’t know, but it must’ve been pretty bad.”

Arthur swatted his hand away. “Whose side are you _on,_ brat?”

Derek smiled angelically.

“Well, I guess that means congratulations are in order,” John said with a grin— and if that grin was a little on the hysterical side, no one was mentioning it.

“Do you know what you’re having? Is it too soon to tell? How far along are you, anyway? Can I—” he reached a tentative hand out, holding it above Sam’s stomach, asking for permission.

The wolves relaxed, relief palpable.

“Of course,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed the sheriff’s hand and firmly placed it on his stomach. “We don’t know what it is yet, we wanted it to be a surprise. I’m five and a half months, according to Alan—”

 _“Deaton?”_ John interrupted, eyebrows raised.

Gabe smiled widely, not even trying to pretend he didn’t find this whole situation amusing.

“As in the man that just helped us magically dispose of a warehouse full of werewolves? As in the _veterinarian?”_

Em came out of the kitchen with another plate of cookies and a mug of cocoa. “Alan delivered all of our pups,” she said guardedly, immediately wishing she had gone with children instead. Gabe had given them enough shit when he’d first learned about Alan’s side-job. She was so not ready to have _that_ conversation again.

“The _veteri_ — _”_

“Yes, John, the veterinarian,” Em snapped, abruptly exasperated. She shoved the cocoa in the sheriff’s hand and shouldered past him to the living room.

“Where’s _my_ cocoa?” Gabe said.

“You can get it your fucking self,” Em muttered, kicking Arthur over and sitting down next to her son.

“Why, thank you, oh great and powerful Alpha,” Gabe said. Em threw a cookie at him, which he caught and promptly shoved into his mouth. “I guess I’ll just go get _myself_ some cocoa,” he said, mouth full, “Since _some_ Alphas don’t feel it’s necessary to provide for _all_ of their Pack members,” he added pointedly.

“Oh, and thanks for the cookie, by the way, it was _delicious.”_

Em looked like she was about to hurl the _entire_ plate of cookies at the back of Gabe’s head, but her husband stopped her.

“It’s not the cookies’ fault that Gabe’s an idiot,” Arthur said.

“Fuck you, Artie,” Gabe said, returning from the kitchen with two mugs of cocoa and a plate of cookies for himself. _(Mountains of cookies)._

“Ooh, is that mine?” Sam snatched one of the mugs from Gabe’s hand.

Gabe frowned. “Well, actually they were _both_ mine.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re such an ass.”

Gabe grinned. “Do I have to remind you how much you _love_ my ass—”

“Please, not tonight,” Arthur pleaded.

Gabe gave him a look that said something like, _bitch, please. “Every_ night, Artie. Your little brother is a freak. Even more so when he’s carrying my babies,” he smirked, wrapping a possessive arm around Sam’s waist.

“Please, don’t remind me,” Arthur begged, horrified. “We can all hear you, even with the soundproofing.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

 _“Your face_ is a personal problem _,”_ Arthur grumbled.

“Really, Arthur, we’re going to resort to ‘your face’ jokes? What are you twelve?”

Arthur leapt up and crossed the room to continue yelling at his best friend. “What, and suddenly you have something against twelve year olds? Wasn’t that how old my brother was when you _put your liver spotted hands on him.”_

“He was _seventeen_ and I’m not even that much older than him, you dick!”

“You were supposed to be my best friend, not trying to _fuck my little brother!”_

“Oh, here we go again, you know what, Arthur—”

Derek sighed and attempted to tune out the all too familiar argument.

“—I put up with you when you were trying to get with Em and you were just bitch, bitch bitching,” Gabe was waving his arms around dramatically, “because she wouldn’t give you the time of day which is probably because you cry, like, five times an hour, but did I say anything about it? No! Why? Because I’m a _good friend_ — _”_

Arthur slapped Gabe’s hands out of the air. “Good friends don’t fuck their best friend’s little brothers!”

“Oh my _god,_ how many times are you going to use that?”

“As many times as I have to!”

Gabe opened his mouth to start another round of their never ending argument, but Em cut him off, having finally had enough.

“Both of you, shut up and sit down before you wake the pups,” Em snapped. “It’s getting late and I’d like to be in bed before midnight. _Laura._ Get your ass down here.”

Laura and Allison came out of her room, cheeks all flushed, and hurried downstairs. “Sorry, Mom. I was, uhm—”

“That was my fault. Sorry, Mrs. Hale,” Allison said, ducking her head.

Em softened a little, apparently as resistant to Allison’s charm— _dimples_ — as everyone else. “You can call me Em, sweetheart.” Allison smiled, pleased.

“Alright,” Em started once they were all seated. “I just wanted to make sure everyone is okay. You’re all okay, right?”

Everyone more or less nodded in agreement.

“Great. We can talk about what happened on Sunday. Everyone good with that? Great,” Em said brightly. “If you don’t live here, go home, unless you’re spending the night which is fine, whatever. Goodnight, I love you all. Arthur, carry me to the room. I’m tired.”

Arthur obediently got to his feet and picked Em up, bridal style. “This isn’t over, Gabriel.”

“You bet your ass it isn’t,” Gabe agreed. He grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him off the couch. “C’mon, Sammy. Let’s go have some crazy loud monkey sex.” Arthur gagged. “Night, brats. Night, John.”

“Night, fellas,” John said, smiling sleepily.

“What do you say, Als, wanna spend the night?” Laura said, waggling her eyebrows. Allison blushed and giggled.

“Oh, God, I’m gonna puke,” Derek muttered. “Laura, she’s sixteen. What’s wrong with you?”

“Actually, I’m seventeen,” Allison said.

“I can work with seventeen,” Laura said.

Allison laughed.

“Let’s leave,” Derek suggested.

“Right behind you, dude,” Stiles said.

They went to the kitchen to start in on Rose’s cookies. They weren’t gonna eat themselves. Stiles and Derek were doing the world a favor.

-

Stiles stopped Allison on her way out to thank her. “Without you, Derek and I wouldn’t have been able to stop ourselves. We would’ve had sex right there in the middle of the room, possibly scarring all of us for life.”

Allison smirked. “It’s what hunters do. Protect the innocent. You know,” she said dryly. “Saving people, hunting things. The family business.”

Stiles gave a startled laugh, and Derek got it, really he did, but he was… perplexed. “And I count as an innocent,” he said flatly. “I’m a _wolf.”_

Allison smiled, and holy hell, _dimples._ “What does _that_ matter?” she laughed.

Goddammit. He refused to be friends with a hunter. Absolutely not.

Laura ran out, keys to their Mom’s Camaro in hand. “Need a ride? It’s not safe for such a pretty girl to be walking at night alone,” she told Allison seriously, a small smirk playing around her mouth.

Allison hid a smile. “I’m sure it isn’t, but I can take care of myself,” she said.

Laura smiled. “I know, that’s what I like about you. Now are you gonna let me ride you home or not?”

“Drive, you meant drive,” Derek corrected.

Laura smirked. “No, I didn’t.”

Derek stared at her for a second and walked away, taking Stiles with him.

“I should have been an only child,” Derek muttered darkly.

“I bet Laura says the same thing. Actually, I know she does, I’ve heard her say it,” Stiles laughed. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his head and winced, suddenly reminded that he had been bludgeoned earlier this evening. Fun.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked worriedly.

“Fine, just a little bump is all,” Stiles lied with a small shrug.

Derek grabbed his hand and started pulling him out of the kitchen. “C’mon. I’ll take a look.”

“No, I’m fine, Der, seriously,” Stiles insisted.

“Don’t make me carry you, Stiles.”

Stiles grumbled, but let Derek lead him to his room.

Derek shut them inside his bathroom and lifted Stiles onto the sink.

“I’m not a baby, you know,” Stiles said sullenly, letting Derek pull his shirt over his head and wincing when it pulled at a sore spot on his side. He looked down, surprised, at the rather large bruise that was blooming just underneath his ribcage. “I don’t even know how I got that,” he said, poking the purpling skin.

Derek made a pained sound, fingers hovering above it.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles frowned at him. “Why?”

“This is my fault.”

Stiles kicked him in the leg.

“Ow! _Stiles.”_

Stiles snickered. “I’m fine. Stop being all broody.” He tugged at Derek’s earlobe playfully.

Derek smiled grudgingly. “We should get an ice pack for that,” he said, eyes going back to the bruise on Stiles’ side. He patted Stiles’ thigh. “Get down, let me check your head.”

Stiles hopped off the counter and turned around. Derek’s fingers combed through his hair carefully.

“It’s not too bad,” Derek said after a second.

“I didn’t think it was.”

“There’s a lot of blood.”

“Head wounds. They bleed a lot,” Stiles answered. “Kind of like paper cuts.”

Derek laughed, remembering. “Shut up, Stiles.”

“You love it when I talk.”

“I love pretty much everything about you,” Derek agreed. He sighed mournfully. “I was dropped as a child. Many, many times.”

“Dick,” Stiles said, laughing.

“Ass.” Derek grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water. “Hold still.”

“Feels good,” Stiles said, while Derek gently wiped the dried blood off his neck and out of his hair. He finished up and tossed the washcloth, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and burying his nose in Stiles’ neck.

“You smell good.”

Stiles leaned back in his arms. “You mean, I smell like blood and sweat and residual fear,” he said contentedly.

Derek went stiff.

“What? What did I say?”

“Nothing, I—” He paused and unwound his arms from around Stiles. “Your dad says he wants to go home.”

Stiles turned to face him. “I can stay—”

Derek gave him a small smile. “You should go,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

_“Stiles!”_

“Go on.” Derek handed him a shirt and nudged him towards the door.

Stiles frowned, but let it go. He pulled the shirt on, gave Derek a quick kiss and left with his father.

-

Derek didn’t catch up with him later.

-

**From: Stiles: I thought you were coming over**

**From: Stiles: Did you fall asleep?**

**From: Stiles: I love you**

**From: Stiles: Night**

-

Stiles slept for maybe about an hour after the last text and woke up sweating, the image of Em’s teeth closing around Deucalion’s throat seared into his eyelids. He reached over for Derek, but he still wasn’t there.

He thought about texting him again, but he didn’t want to wake him up if he was sleeping. He was probably exhausted, too, and with good reason.

-

_“Hello.”_

“Hey, dude, where the fuck are you?” Stiles asked casually.

_“At home.”_

“Well, no shit,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “You should’ve told me you were playing hooky, I would’ve come with.”

There was a pause before Derek responded, _“You don’t need your dad to add another lifetime on your sentence.”_

Stiles laughed. “I think I could handle it, especially with you as my cellmate. Are you coming over after school? Because I haven’t gotten laid in approximately 72 hours— well, actually there was that hand job yesterday in that empty classroom, which was amazing by the way, but I haven’t had a _proper_ fuck in—”

 _“Stiles.”_ Derek’s voice was strained, laced with reluctant amusement.

“Yeah?” Stiles felt a smile tugging at his mouth.

Derek sighed on the other end of the line. _“Look, I’ve gotta go.”_ He hesitated briefly before adding, _“I’ll see you later, okay?”_

“But—” The call ended. “—when,” Stiles finished, frowning down at his phone. Rude.

-

“Hey, where’s Derek?” Isaac asked him.

“Uh, he’s tired, after, y’know,” Stiles glanced around, “yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah, yesterday,” Isaac said, nodding absently.

“Derek’s family is, uh, really something, huh,” Scott said nervously.

It wasn’t a particularly special sentence, it was just the _way_ he said it that clued Stiles in. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling, wondering _why._

“What did Rose do,” he asked dully.

“Nothing, really,” Isaac said, nonchalant. “She just pulled out this huge knife—”

“It was more of a sword,” Scott commented. “A long, sharp sword.”

“­—Okay, a sword-like object and asked us if we understood that we couldn’t tell anyone what we saw,” Isaac finished. “Fun lady, that Rose.”

Stiles hid a grin. “I’m so sorry,” he told them. “I don’t know what’s wrong with them. It’s like they were raised by wolves.”

They didn’t really get why it made him laugh so hard.

“Derek would’ve gotten it,” Stiles informed them. _Derek._

He was suddenly having trouble breathing.

-

Stiles left school after first period. He would have left _during_ first period, but Scott had insisted that their teacher wouldn’t take too kindly to that. Like Stiles gave a shit what his teacher took kindly to.

Stiles sped the entire way to Derek’s in his dad’s pick up— his jeep was in the shop due to douche-wolves and their need to rip the doors off cars— getting there in a record eight and a half minutes.

He ran to Derek’s room, not stopping once, not even when Rose asked him if he wanted breakfast. Which sounded really good because he hadn’t eaten this morning,  but no, he needed to talk to Derek.

Because he was pretty sure Derek was going to try to break up with him.

Stiles burst into his room, panting and sweating. “I know what this is,” he said, shaking a finger at Derek.

Derek sat up, confusedly. “Stiles? What—”

“You’re freaking because I got hurt and I get that, okay. I do, but this isn’t Twilight, Derek. And if you try to break up with me for my own good, I swear to God, I will never talk to you again.”

“No, I just—”

“I love you, Der, and I know we’re young, probably too young to be talking about the forever kind of love, but you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else and I never will. I want you, I want us, so you can’t break up with me, okay? I’ll, I’ll ask Em for the bite! Or become an immortal wizard or something, I won’t get hurt anymore just don’t— _mmph.”_ Derek crashed into him, locking their mouths together, and picked Stiles up, carrying him to bed.

-

Gabe held his hand out expectantly.

Arthur passed him a few bills, tears flowing freely while he tried to ignore the sounds emanating from his son’s room. “Why? Why couldn’t I live in a house filled with celibate people?”

Gabe counted his winnings gleefully. “I don’t know, Artie. That whole ‘mass murderer in a past life’ theory you have is starting to sound accurate.”

Arthur made a weird, little sound somewhere between a snort and a sob.

“You remember the second part of the bet, don’t you, honey?” Em asked her husband, smirking widely.

Sam and Peter started laughing.

“What’s the second half of the bet?” Laura asked curiously.

Gabe grinned.

-

“So, I guess this means you weren’t trying to break up with me?” Stiles asked. He was lying on top of Derek, watching while Derek did that thing where he rubbed their combined cum into Stiles’ skin and looked mesmerized.

Derek blinked up at him as if he were crazy. “I would never. I was trying to stay away from you because I didn’t want to hurt you. I was gonna wait until you were all healed up to fuck you again. So much for that,” he groaned, ashamed.

“Thank God you didn’t,” Stiles said. “I would’ve gone crazy.” He grinned, feeling like an idiot and not even minding. “Was that make up sex?” he wondered.

“I don’t know,” Derek said, dazedly. “But it was kind of awesome.”

“Still is,” Stiles said, gripping the headboard and grinding down on Derek’s knot.

Derek held on, fingers digging into his hips. _“Fuck—”_

“Before you start that again,” Gabe said— thankfully, from the other side of Derek’s door— “I’d just like to say thank you for helping me win this wager. It means more to me than you can imagine. Arthur’s pain is my greatest happiness. I look forward to the retelling of the second part of the bet.” A brief pause and, “That is all. You may continue.”

Stiles and Derek stared at each other in horror.

_“I completely forgot—”_

_“What bet? There was a bet and I didn’t know about it? I could’ve gotten in on that!”_

Derek stared at Stiles. “Clearly, your priorities need sorting.”

-

Derek found out what the second half of the bet was when Arthur sat him down later that day and had a chat with him about the glories of knotting.

“Now, son. Stiles is your, uh, mate so that means a few things. Such as when you—” he waves his hands around vaguely— “You’re going to go through some… _changes._ ”

“Oh God, Dad. Please stop.”

“When you—” more gesturing here, “—the base of your p-penis is going to swell and—”

“Dad, no—”

“This is difficult for both of us, son—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain’s Log Apr 12th 2:06 A.M. My best friend brings me coffee at all hours of the night. That’s true love, right there.
> 
> Captain’s Log, May 15th 7:51 P.M. My sister comes into the living room and says she hates Psych and ‘can’t you put something else on?’
> 
> Challenge accepted. 
> 
> Update: July 23rd 6:31 P.M. Guess who I caught singing along with the theme song of Psych. That’s right, bitch.
> 
> Captain’s Log May 19th 3:23 P.M. Went home for the weekend and spent the last three days with my biff. She’s making me sad with all her death threats and telling me that I better not make any friends when I leave because if I do she’s going to find them
> 
> Captain's Log June 29th 10:11 P.M. So uh, what happened to the Camaro? What the fuck man
> 
> Captain's Log July 4th 6 PM Going to cheese's with lexis, we're gonna have a teen wolf marathon, what whaaaat. 
> 
> Oh, but first, really important: If anyone ever tries to buy you an AMF, immediately stop being their friend.  
> AMFs are the devil. Do not be deceived it looks like kool-aid but it's not IT'S NOT KOOL-AID 
> 
> On a brighter note, last night one of my friends was so drunk they got into a heated argument with some pizza rolls so
> 
> \- I'd like to have a moment of silence for my phone, (Feb 31st - July 11th '13) She drowned at sea. Or was lightly splashed by water while she hid behind the babies' bathtub, either way, my phone's dead and I miss it so much. I carry it around, just hoping that it'll magically start working again. It never does, though. Why god? Why would you do this to me? Is this a test? I'll take hell, just bring my phone back to me
> 
> Captain's Log Aug. 25th 1:12 A.M. Cheese got me a Tardis cigarette case. Have I mentioned that I love her 
> 
> Captain's Log Sept. (holy shit it's september) 5th 11:03 P.M. As some of you know, I'm a nanny/indentured servant. Well last night I was thinking of ways to traumatize my charges, (had nothing to do with the fact that one of the brats pooped on my blanket, retaliation, whats that) when they're older and it's more acceptable to traumatize them and what I came up with was pretty brilliant. 
> 
> I've decided that when they're around ten, twelve (they're twins) I'm going to sit them down and tell one of them (haven't decided who yet, probably whoever's the biggest pain in the ass by then) something along the lines of   
> 'I think this has gone on long enough. You're twelve, that's a bit old for imaginary friends, don't you think'
> 
> I'm going to hell, aren't I
> 
> Captain's Log Sept. 17th 3:28 P.M. I never really thought that coffee had any effect on me- like, it doesn't keep awake at all, actually it kind of makes me sleepy- but today I had an epiphany. I realized that if I don't have at least a cup of coffee a day I get like, really irrationally angry. Like, hulk mad. Like, 'don't tell me good morning, it's not a good morning who the fuck are you to tell me what kind of morning it is' kind of mad.
> 
> So I wrote this Log for one of my other fics, _Sometimes I read really long fics and they start off great, but then they get progressively worse and worse, yet I can't stop reading because usually by the time I realize that I really should just stop, I'm 50k words into it and there's no point in turning back. So then when I've finally finished, I end up leaving kudos anyway, but it's not really a 'wow, this is a really good fic' kudos it's more of a 'I'm rewarding myself for reading your awful, hundred thousand word fic and this is my badge of honor' kudos_ and it recently occurred to me that I was talking about this fic

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! I love you all :) ~~allfiveofyou~~
> 
> If you wanna [addmeontumblr](http://livthelion.tumblr.com) that’d be cool.
> 
> SO COOL


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